MEMOIRS 

OF   THE 

DUKE   OF   SAINT-SIMON 


Eoftfon 


/Ifcemoirs 


OF   THE 


HHihe  of  Saint=Simon 

ON   THE 

REIGN   OF   LOUIS   XIV.   AND 
THE   REGENCY 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY 

BAYLE    ST.    JOHN 

WITH    A    PREFACE    KY 

JAMES   BRECK    PERKINS 


VOLUME    II. 


NEW    YORK 

James  pott  &  Company 

1901 


Copyrighted,    1901, 

~  h 

JAMES  POTT   6?  COMPANY 


CONTEXTS  OF  VOL.  II. 


CHAPTER    I. 

An  Honest  Courtier — Robbery  of  Courtin  and  Fieubet — 
An  Important  Affair — My  Interview  with  the  King — 
His  Jealousy  of  His  Authority — Madame  La  Queue, 
the  King's  Daughter — Battle  of  Blenheim  or  Hochstedt 
— Our  Defeat — Effect  of  the  News  on  the  King — Public 
Grief  and  Public  Rejoicings — Death  of  my  Friend 
Montfort 


CHAPTER    II. 

Naval  Battle  of  Malaga — Danger  of  Gibraltar — Duke  of 
Mantua  in  Search  of  a  Wife — Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres 
— Strange  Intrigues — Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf  Carries 
off  the  Prize — A  Curious  Marriage — Its  Result — His- 
tory of  a  Conversion  to  Catholicism — Attempted  Assas- 
sination— Singular  Seclusion  ...... 


18 


CHAPTER    III. 

Fascination  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne — Fortunes  of 
Nangis — He  is  Loved  by  the  Duchesse  and  Her  Dame 
d'Atours — Discretion  of  the  Court — Maulevrier — His 
Courtship  of  the  Duchess — Singular  Trick — Its  Strange 
Success — Mad  Conduct  of  Maulevrier — He  is  Sent  to 
Spain — His  Adventures  There — His  Return  and  Tragi- 
cal Catastrophe  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .31 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER   IV. 

PAGE 

Death  of  M.  de  Duras — Selfishness  of  the  King — Anecdote 
of  Puysieux  —  Character  of  Pontchartrain  —  Why  he 
Ruined  the  French  Fleet — Madame  des  Ursins  at  Last 
Resolves  to  Return  to  Spain — Favours  Heaped  upon 
Her — M.  de  Lauzun  at  the  Army — His  bon  mot — Con- 
duct of  M.  de  Vendome — Disgrace  and  Character  of 
the  Grand  Prieur 45 

CHAPTER    V. 

A  Hunting  Adventure — Story  and  Catastrophe  of  Fargues 
— Death  and  Character  of  Ninon  de  1'Enclos — Odd  Ad- 
venture of  Courtenvaux — Spies  at  Court — New  Enlist- 
ment— Wretched  State  of  the  Country — Balls  at  Marly  57 

CHAPTER    VI. 

Arrival  of  Vendome  at  Court — Character  of  that  Disgust- 
ing Personage — Rise  of  Cardinal  Alberoni — Vendome' s 
Reception  at  Marly — His  Unheard-of  Triumph — His 
High  Flight — Returns  to  Italy — Battle  of  Calcinate — 
Condition  of  the  Army — Pique  of  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroy — Battle  of  Ramillies — Its  Consequences  .  .  68 

CHAPTER    VII. 

Abandonment  of  the  Siege  of  Barcelona — Affairs  of  Italy 
— La  Feuillade — Disastrous  Rivalries — Conduct  of  M. 
d'Orleans — The  Siege  of  Turin — Battle — Victory  of 
Prince  Eugene — Insubordination  in  the  Army — Retreat 
— M.  d'Orleans  Returns  to  Court — Disgrace  of  La 
Feuillade 82 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Measures  of  Economy — Financial  Embarrassments — The 
King  and  Chamillart — Tax  on  Baptisms  and  Marriages 


Contents  vii 

PAGE 

— Vauban's  Patriotism — Its  Punishment — My  Action 
with  M.  cle  Brissac — I  Appeal  to  the  King — The  Result 
— I  Gain  my  Action 94 

CHAPTER   IX. 

My  Appointment  as  Ambassador  to  Rome — How  it  Fell 
Through — Anecdotes  of  the  Bishop  of  Orleans — A 
Droll  Song — A  Saint  in  Spite  of  Himself — Fashionable 
Crimes — A  Forged  Genealogy — Abduction  of  Beringhen 
— The  Parvulos  of  Meudon  and  Mademoiselle  Choin  .  106 

CHAPTER    X. 

Death  and  Last  Days  of  Madame  de  Montespan — Selfish- 
ness of  the  King — Death  and  Character  of  Madame  de 
Nemours — Neufchatel  and  Prussia — Campaign  of  Vil- 
lars  —  Naval  Successes  —  Inundations  of  the  Loire  — 
Siege  of  Toulon — A  Quarrel  about  News — Quixotic 
Despatches  of  Tesse 124 

CHAPTER    XI. 

Precedence  at  the  Communion  Table — The  King  Offended 
with  Madame  de  Torcy — The  King's  Religion — Athe- 
ists and  Jansenists — Project  against  Scotland — Prepa- 
rations— Failure — The  Chevalier  de  St.  George — His 
Return  to  Court 141 

CHAPTER    XII. 

Death  and  Character  of  Brissac — Brissac  and  the  Court 
Ladies — The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne — Scene  at  the 
Carp  Basin — King's  Selfishness — The  King  Cuts  Sam- 
uel Bernard's  Purse — A  Vain  Capitalist — Story  of 
Leon  and  Florence  the  Actress — His  Loves  with  Made- 
moiselle de  Roquelaure — Run-away  Marriage — Anger 
of  Madame  de  Roquelaure — A  Furious  Mother — Opin- 


viii  Contents 


PAGE 


ions    of    the    Court — A    Mistake — Interference    of    the 
King — Fate  of  the   Couple 156 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  Due  d'Orleans  in  Spain — Offends  Madame  des  Ursins 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon — Laziness  of  M.  de  Ven- 
dome in  Flanders — Battle  of  Oudenarde — Defeat  and 
Disasters — Difference  of  M.  de  Vendome  and  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne 171 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

Conflicting  Reports — Attacks  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — 
The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  Acts  against  Vendome 
— Weakness  of  the  Duke — Cunning  of  Vendome — The 
Siege  of  Lille — Anxiety  for  a  Battle — Its  Delay — Con- 
duct of  the  King  and  Monseigneur  —  A  Picture  of 
Royal  Family  Feeling — Conduct  of  the  Marshal  de 
Boufflers 181 

CHAPTER   XV. 

Equivocal  Position  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — His  Weak 
Conduct — Concealment  of  a  Battle  from  the  King — 
Return  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  Court — Incidents 
of  His  Reception  —  Monseigneur  —  Reception  of  the 
Due  de  Berry — Behaviour  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — 
Anecdotes  of  Gamaches — Return  of  Vendome  to  Court 
— His  Star  Begins  to  Wane — Contrast  of  Boufflers  and 
Vendome — Chamillart's  Project  for  Retaking  Lille — 
How  It  Was  Defeated  by  Madame  de  Maintenon  .  194 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

Tremendous  Cold  in  France — Winters  of  1708-1709 — 
Financiers  and  the  Famine — Interference  of  the  Par- 
liaments of  Paris  and  Dijon — Dreadful  Oppression — 


Contents  ix 


PAGE 


Misery  of  the  People — New  Taxes — Forced  Labour 
— General  Ruin — Increased  Misfortunes — Threatened 
Regicide — Procession  of  Saint  Genevieve — Offerings  of 
Plate  to  the  King — Discontent  of  the  People— A  Bread 
Riot,  How  Appeased 208 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

M.  de  Vendome  Out  of  Favour — -Death  and  Character  of 
the  Prince  de  Conti — Fall  of  Vendome — Puysegur's  In- 
terview with  the  King — Madame  de  Bourgogne  against 
Vendome — Her  Decided  Conduct — Vendome  Excluded 
from  Marly — He  Clings  to  Meudon— From  Which  He 
is  also  Expelled — His  Final  Disgrace  and  Abandon- 
ment— Triumph  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  .  .  .  224 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Death  of  Pere  La  Chaise — His  Infirmities  in  Old  Age — 
Partiality  of  the  King — Character  of  Pere  La  Chaise 
— The  Jesuits — Choice  of  a  New  Confessor — Fagon's 
Opinion — Destruction  of  Port  Royal — Jansenists  and 
Molinists — Pascal — Violent  Oppression  of  the  Inhabi- 
tants of  Port  Royal 237 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Death  of  D'Avaux — A  Quarrel  about  a  Window — Lou- 
vois  and  the  King — Anecdote  of  Boisseuil — Madame 
de  Maintenon  and  M.  de  Beauvilliers — Harcourt  Pro- 
posed for  the  Council — His  Disappointment — Death  of 
of  M.  le  Prince — His  Character — Treatment  of  His 
Wife — His  Love  Adventures — His  Madness — A  Con- 
fessor Brought — Nobody  Regrets  Him  ....  246 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Progress  of  the  War — Simplicity  of  Chamillart — The  Im- 
perialists and  the  Pope — Spanish  Affairs — Due  d'Or- 


Contents 


leans  and  Madame  des  Ursins — Arrest  of  Flotte  in 
Spain — Discovery  of  the  Intrigues  of  the  Due  d'Orleans 
— Cabal  against  Him — His  Disgrace  and  Its  Conse- 
quences   261 

CHAPTER    XXL 

Danger  of  Chamillart — Witticism  of  D'Harcourt — Faults 
of  Chamillart — Court  Intrigues  against  Him — Behav- 
iour of  the  Courtiers — Influence  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon — Dignified  Fall  of  Chamillart — He  is  Succeeded 
by  Voysin — First  Experience  of  the  New  Minister — 
The  Campaign  in  Flanders — Battle  of  Malplaquet  .  270 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

Disgrace  of  the  Due  d'Orleans — I  Endeavour  to  Separate 
Him  from  Madame  d'Argenton — Extraordinary  Re- 
ports— My  Various  Colloquies  with  Him — The  Separa- 
tion —  Conduct  of  Madame  d'Argenton  —  Death  and 
Character  of  M.  le  Due — The  After-suppers  of  the 
King 285 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Proposed  Marriage  of  Mademoiselle — My  Intrigues  to 
Bring  It  About — The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and 
Other  Allies — The  Attack  Begun — Progress  of  the  In- 
trigue —  Economy  at  Marly  —  The  Marriage  Agreed 
Upon — Scene  at  Saint-Cloud — Horrible  Reports — The 
Marriage — Madame  de  Saint-Simon — Strange  Charac- 
ter of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry 297 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Birth  of  Louis  XV.— The  Marechale  de  la  Meilleraye— 
Saint-Ruth's  Cudgel — The  Cardinal  de  Bouillon's  De- 
sertion from  France — Anecdotes  of  His  Audacity.  .  311 


Contents  xi 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

PAGE 

Imprudence  of  Villars — The  Danger  of  Truthfulness — 
Military  Mistakes — The  Fortunes  of  Berwick — The  Son 
of  James — Berwick's  Report  on  the  Army— Imprudent 
Saying  of  Villars — "  The  Good  Little  Fellow  "  in  a 
Scrape — What  Happens  to  Him 319 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Duchesse  de  Berry  Drunk — Operations  in  Spain — Ven- 
dome  Demanded  by  Spain — His  Affront  by  the  Du- 
chesse de  Bourgogne — His  Arrival — Staremberg  and 
Stanhope — The  Flag  of  Spain  Leaves  Madrid — Entry 
of  the  Archduke — Enthusiasm  of  the  Spaniards — The 
King  Returns  —  Strategy  of  Staremberg  —  Affair  of 
Brighuega — Battle  of  Villaviciosa — Its  Consequences 
to  Vendome  and  to  Spain 329 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

State  of  the  Country — New  Taxes — The  King's  Conscience 
Troubled — Decision  of  the  Sorbonne — Debate  in  the 
Council — Effect  of  the  Royal  Tithe — Tax  on  Agioteurs 
— Merriment  at  Court — Death  of  a  Son  of  Marechal 
Boufflers — The  Jesuits 344 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

My  Interview  with  Du  Mont — A  Mysterious  Communica- 
tion— Anger  of  Monseigneur  against  Me — Household 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry — Monseigneur  Taken  111  of 
the  Small-Pox — Effect  of  the  News — The  King  Goes 
to  Meudon  —  The  Danger  Diminishes  —  Aladame  de 
Maintenon  at  Meudon  —  The  Court  at  Versailles  — 
Hopes  and  Fears  —  The  Danger  Returns  —  Death  of 
Monseigneur — Conduct  of  the  King  ....  354 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

PAGE 

A  Rumour  Reaches  Versailles — Aspect  of  the  Court — 
Various  Forms  of  Grief — The  Due  d'Orleans — The 
News  Confirmed  at  Versailles — Behaviour  of  the  Cour- 
tiers— The  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry — The  Due  and 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne — Madame — A  Swiss  Asleep — 
Picture  of  a  Court — The  Heir-Apparent's  Night — The 
King  Returns  to  Marly — Character  of  Monseigneur — 
Effect  of  His  Death 369 


MEMOIRS 

OF    THE 

DUKE   OF   SAINT-SIMON 

CHAPTER  I. 

An  Honest  Courtier — Robbery  of  Courtin  and  Fieubet — An 
Important  Affair — My  Interview  with  the  King — His  Jeal- 
ousy of  His  Authority — Madame  La  Queue,  the  King's 
Daughter — Battle  of  Blenheim  or  Hochstedt — Our  Defeat — 
Effect  of  the  News  on  the  King — Public  Grief  and  Public 
Rejoicings — Death  of  my  Friend  Montfort. 

IN  relating  what  happened  to  Madame  des  Ursins  up 
her  return  to  Spain,  I  have  carried  the  narrative 
into  the  year  1705.  It  is  not  necessary  to  retrace  our 
steps.  Towards  the  end  of  1703  Courtin  died.  He 
had  early  shone  at  the  Council,  and  had  been  made 
Intendant  of  Picardy.  M.  cle  Chaulnes,  whose  estates 
were  there,  begged  him  to  tax  them  as  lightly  as  pos- 
sible. Courtin,  who  was  a  very  intimate  friend  of  M. 
de  Chaulnes,  complied  with  his  request;  but  the  next 
year,  in  going  over  his  accounts,  he  found  that  to  do 
a  good  turn  to  M.  de  Chaulnes  he  had  done  an  ill  turn 
to  many  others — that  is  to  say,  he  had  relieved  M.  de 
VOL.  II.— i  i 


2  Memoirs  of 

Chaulnes  at  the  expense  of  other  parishes,  which  he 
had  overcharged.  The  trouble  this  caused  him  made 
him  search  deeply  into  the  matter,  and  he  found  that 
the  wrong  he  had  done  amounted  to  forty  thousand 
francs.  Without  a  second  thought  he  paid  back  this 
money,  and  asked  to  be  recalled.  As  he  was  much  es- 
teemed, his  request  was  not  at  once  complied  with, 
but  he  represented  so  well  that  he  could  not  pass  his 
life  doing  wrong,  and  unable  to  serve  his  friends,  that 
at  last  what  he  asked  was  granted.  He  afterwards  had 
several  embassies,  went  to  England  as  ambassador,  and 
was  very  successful  in  that  capacity.  I  cannot  quit 
Courtin  without  relating  an  adventure  he  had  one  day 
with  Fieubet,  a  Councillor  of  State  like  himself.  As 
they  were  going  to  Saint  Germain  they  were  stopped  by 
several  men  and  robbed ;  robbery  was  common  in  those 
days,  and  Fieubet  lost  all  he  had  in  his  pockets.  When 
the  thieves  had  left  them,  and  while  Fieubet  was  com- 
plaining of  his  misfortune,  Courtin  began  to  applaud 
himself  for  having  saved  his  watch  and  fifty  pistoles 
that  he  had  time  to  slip  into  his  trowsers.  Immedi- 
ately on  hearing  this,  Fieubet  put  his  head  out  of  the 
coach  window,  and  called  back  the  thieves,  who  came 
sure  enough  to  see  what  he  wanted. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  appear  to  be  honest 
folks  in  distress;  it  is  not  reasonable  that  you  should 
be  the  dupes  of  this  gentleman,  who  has  swindled  you 
out  of  fifty  pistoles  and  his  watch."  And  then  turning 
to  Courtin,  he  smilingly  said:  "  You  told  me  so  your- 
self, monsieur;  so  give  the  things  up  like  a  man,  with- 
out being  searched." 

The  astonishment  and  indignation  of  Courtin  were 


Saint-Simon  3 

such  that  he  allowed  money  and  watch  to  be  taken 
from  him  without  uttering  a  single  word;  but  when  the 
thieves  were  gone  away,  he  would  have  strangled  Fieu- 
bet  had  not  this  latter  been  the  stronger  of  the  two. 
Fieubet  only  laughed  at  him ;  and  upon  arriving  at  Saint 
Germain  told  the  adventure  to  everybody  he  met. 
Their  friends  had  all  the  trouble  in  the  world  to  recon- 
cile them. 

The  year  finished  with  an  affair  in  which  I  was  not 
a  little  interested.  During  the  year  there  were  several 
grand  fetes,  at  wrhich  the  King  went  to  High  Mass  and 
vespers.  On  these  occasions  a  lady  of  the  Court,  named 
by  the  Queen,  or  when  there  was  none,  by  the  Dau- 
phiness,  made  a  collection  for  the  poor.  The  house  of 
Lorraine,  always  anxious  to  increase  its  importance, 
shirked  impudently  this  duty,  in  order  thereby  to  give 
itself  a  new7  distinction,  and  assimilate  its  rank  to  that 
of  the  Princes  of  the  blood.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
this  was  perceived.  At  last  the  Duchesse  de  Noailles, 
the  Duchesse  de  Guiche,  her  daughter,  the  Marechal 
de  Boufflers,  and  others,  took  notice  of  it;  and  I  was 
soon  after  informed  of  it.  I  determined  that  the  mat- 
ter should  be  arranged,  and  that  justice  should  be  done. 

The  Duchesse  de  Lude  was  first  spoken  to  on  the 
subject;  she,  weak  and  timid,  did  not  dare  to  do  any- 
thing; but  at  last  was  induced  to  speak  to  Madame  la 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  who,  wishing  to  judge  for  her- 
self as  to  the  truth  of  the  matter,  ordered  Madame  de 
Montbazon  to  make  the  collection  for  the  poor  at  the 
next  fete  that  took  place.  Although  very  well,  Ma- 
dame de  Montbazon  pretended  to  be  ill,  stopped  in  bed 
half  a  day,  and  excused  herself  on  this  ground  from 


4  Memoirs  of 

performing  the  duty.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  was  an- 
noyed, but  she  did  not  dare  to  push  matters  farther; 
and,  in  consequence  of  this  refusal,  none  of  the 
Duchesses  would  make  the  collection.  Other  ladies  of 
quality  soon  perceived  this,  and  they  also  refused  to 
serve;  so  that  the  collection  fell  into  all  sorts  of  hands, 
and  sometimes  was  not  made  at  all.  Matters  went  on 
so  far,  indeed,  that  the  King  at  last  grew  angry,  and 
threatened  to  make  Madame  de  Bourgogne  herself  take 
this  office.  But  refusals  still  followed  upon  refusals, 
and  the  bomb  thus  at  length  was  ready  to  burst! 

The  King,  who  at  last  ordered  the  daughter  of  M.  le 
Grand  to  take  the  plate  on  New  Year's  Day,  1704,  had, 
it  seems,  got  scent  of  the  part  I  was  taking  in  this  mat- 
ter, and  expressed  himself  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
as  I  learnt,  as  very  discontented  with  me  and  one  or 
two  other  Dukes.  He  said  that  the  Dukes  were  much 
less  obedient  to  him  than  the  Princes;  and  that  although 
many  Duchesses  had  refused  to  make  the  collection, 
the  moment  he  had  proposed  that  the  daughter  of  M. 
le  Grand  should  take  it,  M.  le  Grand  consented.  On 
the  next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  I  saw  Chamillart, 
who  related  to  me  that  on  the  previous  evening,  before 
he  had  had  time  to  open  his  business,  the  King  had 
burst  out  in  anger  against  me,  saying  it  was  very 
strange,  but  that  since  I  had  quitted  the  army  I  did 
nothing  but  meddle  in  matters  of  rank  and  bring  ac- 
tions against  everybody;  finishing,  by  declaring  that 
if  he  acted  well  he  should  send  me  so  far  away  that  I 
should  be  unable  to  importune  him  any  more.  Cha- 
millart added,  that  he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  ap- 
pease the  King,  but  with  little  effect. 


Saint-Simon  5 

After  consulting  with  my  friends,  I  determined  to  go 
up  to  the  King  and  boldly  ask  to  speak  to  him  in  his 
cabinet,  believing  that  to  be  the  wisest  course  I  could 
pursue.  He  was  not  yet  so  reconciled  to  me  as  he  af- 
terwards became,  and,  in  fact,  was  sorely  out  of  hu- 
mour with  me.  This  step  did  not  seem,  therefore,  al- 
together unattended  with  danger;  but,  as  I  have  said, 
I  resolved  to  take  it.  As  he  passed,  therefore,  from  his 
dinner  that  same  day,  I  asked  permission  to  follow  him 
into  his  cabinet.  Without  replying  to  me,  he  made  a 
sign  that  I  might  enter,  and  went  into  the  embrasure 
of  the  window. 

When  we  were  quite  alone  I  explained,  at  consider- 
able length,  my  reasons  for  acting  in  this  matter,  de- 
claring that  it  was  from  no  disrespect  to  his  Majesty 
that  I  had  requested  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  the 
other  Duchesses  to  refuse  to  collect  for  the  poor,  but 
simply  to  bring  those  to  account  who  had  claimed 
without  reason  to  be  exempt  from  this  duty.  I  added, 
keeping  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  King  all  the  time,  that 
I  begged  him  to  believe  that  none  of  his  subjects  were 
more  submissive  to  his  will  or  more  willing  to  acknowl- 
edge the  supremacy  of  his  authority  in  all  things  than 
the  Dukes.  Until  this  his  tone  and  manner  had  been 
very  severe;  but  now  they  both  softened,  and  he  said, 
with  much  goodness  and  familiarity,  that  "  that  was 
how  it  was  proper  to  speak  and  think,"  and  other  re- 
marks equally  gracious.  I  took  then  the  opportunity 
of  expressing  the  sorrow  I  felt  at  seeing,  that  while  my 
sole  endeavour  was  to  please  him,  my  enemies  did  all 
they  could  to  blacken  me  in  his  eyes,  indicating  that  I 
suspected  M.  le  Grand,  who  had  never  pardoned  me  for 


6  Memoirs  of 

the  part  I  took  in  the  affair  of  the  Princcsse  d'Harcotirt, 
was  one  of  the  number.  After  I  had  finished  the  King 
remained  still  a  moment,  as  if  ready  to  hear  if  I  had 
anything  more  to  say,  and  then  quitted  me  with  a  bow, 
slight  but  very  gracious,  saying  it  was  well,  and  that 
he  was  pleased  with  me. 

I  learnt  afterwards  that  he  said  the  same  thing  of  me 
in  the  evening  to  Chamillart,  but,  nevertheless,  that  he 
did  not  seem  at  all  shaken  in  his  prejudice  in  favour  of 
M.  le  Grand.  The  King  was  in  fact  very  easy  to  preju- 
dice, difficult  to  lead  back,  and  most  unwilling  to  seek 
enlightenment,  or  to  listen  to  any  explanations,  if  au- 
thority was  in  the  slightest  degree  at  stake.  Whoever 
had  the  address  to  make  a  question  take  this  shape, 
might  be  assured  that  the  King  would  throw  aside  all 
consideration  of  justice,  right,  and  reason,  and  dismiss 
all  evidence.  It  was  by  playing  on  this  chord  that  his 
ministers  knew  how  to  manage  him  with  so  much  art, 
and  to  make  themselves  despotic  masters,  causing  him 
to  believe  all  they  wished,  while  at  the  same  time  they 
rendered  him  inaccessible  to  explanation,  and  to  those 
who  might  have  explained. 

I  have,  perhaps,  too  much  expanded  an  affair  which 
might  have  been  more  compressed.  But  in  addition 
to  the  fact  that  I  was  mixed  up  in  it,  it  is  by  these 
little  private  details,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  charac- 
ters of  the  Court  and  King  are  best  made  known. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  next  year,  1704,  the  King 
made  La  Queue,  who  was  a  captain  of  cavalry,  camp- 
master.  This  La  Queue  was  seigneur  of  the  place  of 
which  he  bore  the  name,  distant  six  leagues  from  Ver- 
sailles, and  as  much  from  Dreux.  He  had  married  a 


Saint-Simon  7 

girl  that  the  King  had  had  by  a  gardener's  wife.  Bon- 
tems,  the  confidential  valet  of  the  King,  had  brought 
about  the  marriage  without  declaring  the  names  of  the 
father  or  the  mother  of  the  girl;  but  La  Queue  knew 
it,  and  promised  himself  a  fortune.  The  girl  herself 
•was  tall  and  strongly  resembled  the  King.  Unfortu- 
nately for  her,  she  knew  the  secret  of  her  birth,  and 
much  envied  her  three  sisters  —  recognised,  and  so 
grandly  married.  She  lived  on  very  good  terms  with 
her  husband — always,  however,  in  the  greatest  privacy 
— and  had  several  children  by  him.  La  Queue  him- 
self, although  by  this  marriage  son-in-law  of  the  King, 
seldom  appeared  at  the  Court,  and,  when  there,  was 
on  the  same  footing  as  the  simplest  soldier.  Bontems 
did  not  fail  from  time  to  time  to  give  him  money.  The 
wife  of  La  Queue  lived  very  mclancholily  for  twenty 
years  in  her  village,  never  left  it,  and  scarcely  ever  went 
abroad  for  fear  of  betraying  herself. 

On  Wednesday,  the  25th  of  June,  Monseigneur  le 
Due  de  Bourgogne  had  a  son  born  to  him.  This  event 
caused  great  joy  to  the  King  and  the  Court.  The  town 
shared  their  delight,  and  carried  their  enthusiasm  al- 
most to  madness,  by  the  excess  of  their  demonstration 
and  their  fetes.  The  King  gave  a  fete  at  Marly,  and 
made  the  most  magnificent  presents  to  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse  de  Bourgogne  when  she  left  her  bed.  But  we 
soon  had  reason  to  repent  of  so  much  joy,  for  the  child 
died  in  less  than  a  year — and  of  so  much  money  un- 
wisely spent  in  fetes  when  it  was  wanted  for  more  press- 
ing purposes.  Even  while  these  rejoicings  were  being 
celebrated,  news  reached  us  which  spread  consterna- 
tion in  every  family,  and  cast  a  gloom  over  the  whole 
citv. 


8  Memoirs  of 

I  have  already  said  that  a  grand  alliance,  with  the 
Emperor  at  its  head,  had  been  formed  against  France, 
and  that  our  troops  were  opposing  the  allies  in  various 
parts  of  Europe.  The  Elector  of  Bavaria  had  joined 
his  forces  to  ours,  and  had  already  done  us  some  ser- 
vice. On  the  I2th  of  August  he  led  his  men  into  the 
plain  of  Hochstedt,  where,  during  the  previous  year, 
he  had  gained  a  victory  over  the  Imperialists.  In  this 
plain  he  was  joined  by  our  troops,  who  took  up  posi- 
tions right  and  left  of  him,  under  the  command  of  Tal- 
lard  and  Marsin.  The  Elector  himself  had  command 
of  all.  Soon  after  their  arrival  at  Hochstedt,  they  re- 
ceived intelligence  that  Prince  Eugene,  with  the  Im- 
perialist forces,  and  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  with  the 
English  were  coming  to  meet  them.  Our  generals 
had,  however,  all  the  day  before  them  to  choose  their 
ground,  and  to  make  their  dispositions.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  to  succeed  worse,  both  with  the  one  and 
the  other.  A  brook,  by  no  means  of  a  miry  kind,  ran 
parallel  to  our  army;  and  in  front  of  it  a  spring,  which 
formed  a  long  and  large  quagmire,  nearly  separated  the 
two  lines  of  Marshal  Tallard.  It  was  a  strange  situa- 
tion for  a  general  to  take  up,  who  is  master  of  a  vast 
plain;  and  it  became,  as  will  be  seen,  a  very  sad  one. 
At  his  extreme  right  was  the  large  village  of  Blenheim, 
in  which,  by  a  blindness  without  example,  he  had  placed 
twenty-six  battalions  of  infantry,  six  regiments  of  dra- 
goons, and  a  brigade  of  cavalry.  It  was  an  entire  army 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  holding  this  village,  and  sup- 
porting his  right,  and  of  course  he  had  all  these  troops 
the  less  to  aid  him  in  the  battle  which  took  place.  The 
first  battle  of  Hochstedt  afforded  a  lesson  which  ought 


Saint-Simon  9 

to  have  been  studied  on  this  occasion.  There  were 
many  officers  present,  too,  who  had  been  at  that  battle; 
but  they  were  not  consulted.  One  of  two  courses  was 
open,  either  to  take  up  a  position  behind  the  brook, 
and  parallel  to  it,  so  as  to  dispute  its  passage  with  the 
enemies,  or  to  take  advantage  of  the  disorder  they 
would  be  thrown  into  in  crossing  it  by  attacking  them 
then.  Both  these  plans  were  good;  the  second  was  the 
better;  but  neither  was  adopted.  What  was  done  was, 
to  leave  a  large  space  between  our  troops  and  the 
brook,  that  the  enemy  might  pass  at  their  ease,  and  be 
overthrown  afterwards,  as  was  said.  With  such  dis- 
positions it  is  impossible  to  doubt  but  that  our  chiefs 
were  struck  with  blindness.  The  Danube  flowed  near 
enough  to  Blenheim  to  be  of  sufficient  support  to  our 
right,  better  indeed  than  that  village,  which  conse- 
quently there  was  no  necessity  to  hold. 

The  enemies  arrived  on  the  I3th  of  August  at  the 
dawn,  and  at  once  took  up  their  position  on  the  banks 
of  the  brook.  Their  surprise  must  have  been  great  to 
see  our  army  so  far  off,  drawn  up  in  battle  array.  They 
profited  by  the  extent  of  ground  left  to  them,  crossed 
the  brook  at  nearly  every  point,  formed  themselves  in 
several  lines  on  the  side  to  which  they  crossed,  and 
then  extended  themselves  at  their  ease,  without  receiv- 
ing the  slightest  opposition.  This  is  exact  truth,  but 
without  any  appearance  of  being  so;  and  posterity  will 
with  difficulty  believe  it.  It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock 
before  all  these  dispositions,  which  our  troops  saw  made 
without  moving,  were  completed.  Prince  Eugene  with 
his  army  had  the  right;  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  the 
left.  The  latter  thus  opposed  to  the  forces  of  Tallard, 
and  Prince  Eugene  to  those  of  Marsin. 


io  Memoirs  of 

The  battle  commenced;  and  in  one  part  was  so  far 
favourable  to  us  that  the  attack  of  Prince  Eugene  was 
repulsed  by  Marsin,  who  might  have  profited  by  this 
circumstance  but  for  the  unfortunate  position  of  our 
right.  Two  things  contributed  to  place  us  at  a  disad- 
vantage. The  second  line,  separated  by  the  quagmire 
I  have  alluded  to  from  the  first  line,  could  not  sustain 
it  properly;  and  in  consequence  of  the  long  bend  it  was 
necessary  to  make  round  this  quagmire,  neither  line, 
after  receiving  or  making  a  charge,  could  retire  quickly 
to  rally  and  return  again  to  the  attack.  As  for  the  in- 
fantry, the  twenty-six  battalions  shut  up  in  Blenheim 
left  a  great  gap  in  it  that  could  not  fail  to  be  felt.  The 
English,  who  soon  perceived  the  advantage  they  might 
obtain  from  this  want  of  infantry,  and  from  the  diffi- 
culty with  which  our  cavalry  of  the  right  was  rallied, 
profited  by  these  circumstances  with  the  readiness  of 
people  who  have  plenty  of  ground  at  their  disposal. 
They  redoubled  their  charges,  and  to  say  all  in  one 
word,  they  defeated  at  their  first  attack  all  this  army, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  our  general  officers  and 
of  several  regiments  to  repel  them.  The  army  of  the 
Elector,  entirely  unsupported,  and  taken  in  flank  by 
the  English,  wavered  in  its  turn.  All  the  valour  of  the 
Bavarians,  all  the  prodigies  of  the  Elector,  were  un- 
able to  remedy  the  effects  of  this  wavering.  Thus  was 
seen,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  army  of  Tallard 
beaten  and  thrown  into  the  utmost  disorder;  that  of 
the  Elector  sustaining  itself  with  great  intrepidity,  but 
already  in  retreat;  and  that  of  Marsin  charging  and 
gaining  ground  upon  Prince  Eugene.  It  was  not  un- 
til Marsin  learnt  of  the  defeat  of  Tallard  and  of  the 


Saint-Simon  1 1 

Elector,  that  he  ceased  to  pursue  his  advantages,  and 
commenced  his  retreat.  This  retreat  he  was  able  to 
make  without  being  pursued. 

In  the  meantime  the  troops  in  Blenheim  had  been 
twice  attacked,  and  had  twice  repulsed  the  enemy. 
Tallard  had  given  orders  to  these  troops  on  no  account 
to  leave  their  positions,  nor  to  allow  a  single  man  even 
to  quit  them.  Now,  seeing  his  army  defeated  and  in 
flight,  he  wished  to  countermand  these  orders.  He 
was  riding  in  hot  haste  to  Blenheim  to  do  so,  with  only 
two  attendants,  when  all  three  were  surrounded,  recog- 
nised, and  taken  prisoners. 

These  troops  shut  up  in  Blenheim  had  been  left  un- 
der the  command  of  Blansac,  camp-marshal,  and  Cle- 
rembault,  lieutenant-general.  During  the  battle  this 
latter  was  missed,  and  could  nowhere  be  found.  It  was 
known  afterwards  that,  for  fear  of  being  killed,  he  had 
endeavoured  to  escape  across  the  Danube  on  horseback 
attended  by  a  single  valet.  The  valet  passed  over  the 
river  in  safety,  but  his  master  went  to  the  bottom. 
Blansac,  thus  left  alone  in  command,  was  much 
troubled  by  the  disorders  he  saw  and  heard,  and  by  the 
want  which  he  felt  of  fresh  orders.  He  sent  a  messen- 
ger to  Tallard  for  instructions  how  to  act,  but  his  mes- 
senger was  stopped  on  the  road,  and  taken  prisoner. 
I  only  repeat  what  Blansac  himself  reported  in  his  de- 
fence, which  was  equally  ill-received  by  the  King  and 
the  public,  but  which  had  no  contradictors,  for  nobody 
was  witness  of  what  took  place  at  Blenheim  except 
those  actually  there,  and  they  all,  the  principals  at  least, 
agreed  in  their  story.  What  some  of  the  soldiers  said 
was  not  of  a  kind  that  could  altogether  be  relied  upon. 


12  Memoirs  of 

While  Blansac  was  in  this  trouble,  he  saw  Denon- 
ville,  one  of  our  officers  who  had  been  taken  prisoner, 
coming  towards  the  village,  accompanied  by  an  officer 
who  waved  a  handkerchief  in  the  air  and  demanded  a 
parley.  Denonville  was  a  young  man,  very  handsome 
and  well  made,  who  being  a  great  favourite  with  Mon- 
seigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  had  become  presumptu- 
ous and  somewhat  audacious.  Instead  of  speaking  in 
private  to  Blansac  and  the  other  principal  officers — 
since  he  had  undertaken  so  strange  a  mission — Denon- 
ville, who  had  some  intellect,  plenty  of  fine  talk,  and  a 
mighty  opinion  of  himself,  set  to  work  haranguing  the 
troops,  trying  to  persuade  them  to  surrender  themselves 
prisoners  of  war,  so  that  they  might  preserve  them- 
selves for  the  service  of  the  King.  Blansac,  who  saw 
the  wavering  this  caused  among  the  troops,  sharply 
told  Denonville  to  hold  his  tongue,  and  began  himself 
to  harangue  the  troops  in  a  contrary  spirit.  But  it  was 
too  late.  The  mischief  was  done.  Only  one  regiment, 
that  of  Navarre,  applauded  him,  all  the  rest  maintained 
a  dull  silence.  I  remind  my  readers  that  it  is  Blan- 
sac's  version  of  the  story  I  am  giving. 

Soon  after  Denonville  and  his  companion  had  re- 
turned to  the  enemy,  an  English  lord  came,  demanding 
a  parley  with  the  commandant.  He  was  admitted  to 
Blansac,  to  whom  he  said  that  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough  had  sent  him  to  say  that  he  had  forty  battalions 
and  sixty  pieces  of  cannon  at  his  disposal,  with  rein- 
forcements to  any  extent  at  command;  that  he  should 
surround  the  village  on  all  sides;  that  the  army  of  Tal- 
lard  was  in  flight,  and  the  remains  of  that  of  the  Elector 
in  retreat;  that  Tallard  and  many  general  officers  were 


Saint-Simon  13 

prisoners;  that  Blansac  could  hope  for  no  reinforce- 
ments; and  that,  therefore,  he  had  better  at  once  make 
an  honourable  capitulation,  and  surrender  himself  with 
all  his  men  prisoners  of  war,  than  attempt  a  struggle 
in  which  he  was  sure  to  be  worsted  with  great  loss. 
Blansac  wanted  to  dismiss  this  messenger  at  once,  but 
the  Englishman  pressed  him  to  advance  a  few  steps 
out  of  the  village,  and  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  defeat 
of  the  Electoral  army,  and  the  preparations  that  were 
made  on  the  other  side  to  continue  the  battle.  Blan- 
sac accordingly,  attended  by  one  of  his  officers,  fol- 
lowed this  lord,  and  was  astounded  to  see  with  his  own 
eyes  that  all  he  had  just  heard  was  true.  Returned  into 
Blenheim,  Blansac  assembled  all  his  principal  officers, 
made  them  acquainted  with  the  proposition  that  had 
been  made,  and  told  them  what  he  had  himself  seen. 
Every  one  comprehended  what  a  frightful  shock  it 
would  be  for  the  country  when  it  learnt  that  they  had 
surrendered  themselves  prisoners  of  war;  but  all  things 
well  considered,  it  was  thought  best  to  accept  these 
terms,  and  so  preserve  to  the  King  the  twenty-six  bat- 
talions and  the  twelve  squadrons  of  dragoons  who  were 
there.  This  terrible  capitulation  was  at  once,  therefore, 
drawn  up  and  signed  by  Blansac,  the  general  officers, 
and  the  heads  of  every  corps  except  that  of  Navarre, 
which  was  thus  the  sole  one  which  refused. 

The  number  of  prisoners  that  fell  to  the  enemy  in 
this  battle  was  infinite.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough 
took  charge  of  the  most  distinguished,  until  he  could 
carry  them  away  to  England,  to  grace  his  triumph 
there.  He  treated  them  all,  even  the  humblest,  with 
the  utmost  attention,  consideration,  and  politeness,  and 


14  Memoirs  of 

with  a  modesty  that  did  him  even  more  honour  than 
his  victory.  Those  that  came  under  the  charge  of 
Prince  Louis  of  Baden  were  much  less  kindly  treated. 

The  King  received  the  cruel  news  of  this  battle  on 
the  2 ist  of  August,  by  a  courier  from  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroy.  By  this  courier  the  King  learnt  that  a  battle 
had  taken  place  on  the  I3th;  had  lasted  from  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  evening;  that  the  entire 
army  of  Tallard  was  killed  or  taken  prisoners;  that  it 
was  not  known  what  had  become  of  Tallard  himself, 
or  whether  the  Elector  and  Marsin  had  been  at  the  ac- 
tion. The  private  letters  that  arrived  were  all  opened 
to  see  what  news  they  contained,  but  no  fresh  informa- 
tion could  be  got  from  them.  For  six  days  the  King 
remained  in  this  uncertainty  as  to  the  real  losses  that 
had  been  sustained.  Everybody  was  afraid  to  write 
bad  news;  all  the  letters  which  from  time  to  time  ar- 
rived, gave,  therefore,  but  an  unsatisfactory  account  of 
what  had  taken  place.  The  King  used  every  means  in 
his  power  to  obtain  some  news.  Every  post  that  came 
in  was  examined  by  him,  but  there  was  little  found  to 
satisfy  him.  Neither  the  King  nor  anybody  else  could 
understand,  from  what  had  reached  them,  how  it  was 
that  an  entire  army  had  been  placed  inside  a  village, 
and  had  surrendered  itself  by  a  signed  capitulation.  It 
puzzled  every  brain.  At  last  the  details,  that  had  oozed 
out  little  by  little,  augmented  to  a  perfect  stream,  by 
the  arrival  of  one  of  our  officers,  who,  taken  prisoner, 
had  been  allowed  by  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  to  go  to 
Paris  to  relate  to  the  King  the  misfortune  that  had 
happened  to  him. 

We  were  not  accustomed  to  misfortunes.     This  one, 


Saint-Simon  15 

very  reasonably,  was  utterly  unexpected.  It  seemed 
in  every  way  the  result  of  bad  generalship,  of  an  unjusti- 
fiable disposition  of  troops,  and  of  a  series  of  gross  and 
incredible  errors.  The  commotion  was  general.  There 
was  scarcely  an  illustrious  family  that  had  not  had  one 
of  its  members  killed,  wounded,  or  taken  prisoner. 
Other  families  were  in  the  same  case.  The  public  sor- 
row and  indignation  burst  out  without  restraint.  No- 
body who  had  taken  part  in  this  humiliation  was  spared ; 
the  generals  and  the  private  soldiers  alike  came  in  for 
blame.  Denonville  was  ignominiously  broken  for  the 
speech  he  had  made  at  Blenheim.  The  generals,  how- 
ever, were  entirely  let  off.  All  the  punishment  fell 
upon  certain  regiments,  which  were  broken,  and  upon 
certain  unimportant  officers — the  guilty  and  innocent 
mixed  together.  The  outcrv  was  universal.  The  grief 
of  the  King  at  this  ignominy  and  this  loss,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  he  imagined  that  the  fate  of  the  Emperor 
was  in  his  hands,  may  be  imagined.  At  a  time  when 
he  might  have  counted  upon  striking  a  decisive  blow, 
he  saw  himself  reduced  to  act  simply  on  the  defensive, 
in  order  to  preserve  his  troops;  and  had  to  repair  the 
loss  of  an  entire  army,  killed  or  taken  prisoners.  The 
sequel  showed  not  less  that  the  hand  of  God  was 
weighty  upon  us.  All  judgment  was  lost.  We  trem- 
bled even  in  the  midst  of  Alsace. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  public  sorrow,  the  rejoicings 
and  the  fetes  for  the  birth  of  the  Due  de  Bretagne,  son 
of  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  were  not  dis- 
continued. The  city  gave  a  firework  fete  upon  the 
river,  that  Monseigneur,  the  Princes,  his  sons,  and  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  with  many  ladies  and 


1 6  Memoirs  of 

courtiers,  came  to  see  from  the  windows  of  the  Louvre, 
magnificent  cheer  and  refreshments  being  provided  for 
them.  This  was  a  contrast  which  irritated  the  people, 
who  would  not  understand  that  it  was  meant  for  mag- 
nanimity. A  few  days  afterwards  the  King  gave  an 
illumination  and  a  fete  at  Marly,  to  which  the  Court  of 
Saint  Germain  \vas  invited,  and  which  was  all  in  honour 
of  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  He  thanked 
the  Prcvot  dcs  Marchands  for  the  fireworks  upon  the 
river,  and  said  that  Monseigneur  and  Madame  had 
found  them  very  beautiful. 

Shortly  after  this,  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of  my 
friends,  the  Due  de  Montfort,  who  had  always  been  in 
the  army  of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy.  He  sent  word 
to  me,  that  upon  his  return  he  intended  to  break  his 
sword,  and  retire  from  the  army.  His  letter  was  writ- 
ten in  such  a  despairing  tone  that,  fearing  lest  with  his 
burning  courage  he  might  commit  some  martial  folly, 
I  conjured  him  not  to  throw  himself  into  danger  for 
the  sake  of  being  killed.  It  seemed  that  I  had  antici- 
pated his  intentions.  A  convoy  of  money  was  to  be 
sent  to  Landau.  Twice  he  asked  to  be  allowed  to  take 
charge  of  this  convoy,  and  twice  he  was  told  it  was  too 
insignificant  a  charge  for  a  camp-marshal  to  undertake. 
The  third  time  that  he  asked  this  favour,  he  obtained 
it  by  pure  importunity.  He  carried  the  money  safely 
into  Landau,  w-ithout  meeting  with  any  obstacle.  On 
his  return  he  saw  some  hussars  roving  about.  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  he  resolved  to  give  chase  to 
them.  He  was  with  difficulty  restrained  for  some  time, 
and  at  last,  breaking  away,  he  set  off  to  attack  them, 
followed  by  only  two  officers.  The  hussars  dispersed 


Saint-Simon  17 

themselves,  and  retreated;  the  Due  de  Montfort  fol- 
lowed them,  rode  into  the  midst  of  them,  was  surround- 
ed on  all  sides,  and  soon  received  a  blow  which  over- 
turned him.  In  a  few  moments  after,  being  carried 
off  by  his  men,  he  died,  having  only  had  time  to  con- 
fess himself,  and  to  arrive  at  his  quarters.  He  was  in- 
finitely regretted  by  everybody  who  had  known  him. 
The  grief  of  his  family  may  be  imagined. 


VOL.  II. — 2 


CHAPTER  II. 

Naval  Battle  of  Malaga  —  Danger  of  Gibraltar  —  Duke  of 
Mantua  in  Search  of  a  Wife — Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres — 
Strange  Intrigues — Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf  Carries  off  the 
Prize  —  A  Curious  Marriage  —  Its  Result  —  History  of  a 
Conversion  to  Catholicism  —  Attempted  Assassination  — 
Singular  Seclusion. 

THE  King  did  not  long  remain  without  some  con- 
solation for  the  loss  of  the  battle  of  Hochstedt 
(Blenheim).  The  Comte  de  Toulouse — very  different 
in  every  respect  from  his  brother,  the  Due  du  Maine — 
was  wearied  with  cruising  in  the  Mediterranean,  with- 
out daring  to  attack  enemies  that  were  too  strong  for 
him.  He  had,  therefore,  obtained  reinforcements  this 
year,  so  that  he  was  in  a  state  to  measure  his  forces 
with  any  opponent.  The  English  fleet  was  under  the 
command  of  Admiral  Rooke.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse 
wished  above  all  things  to  attack.  He  asked  permis- 
sion to  do  so,  and,  the  permission  being  granted,  he 
set  about  his  enterprise.  He  met  the  fleet  of  Admiral 
Rooke  near  Malaga,  on  the  24th  of  September  of  this 
year,  and  fought  with  it  from  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing until  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  fleets,  as 
far  as  the  number  of  vessels  w:as  concerned,  were 
nearly  equal.  So  furious  or  so  obstinate  a  sea-fight 

IS  2 


Saint-Simon  19 

had  not  been  seen  for  a  long  time.  They  had  always 
the  wind  upon  our  fleet,  yet  all  the  advantage  was  on 
the  side  of  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  who  could  boast 
that  he  had  obtained  the  victory,  and  whose  vessel 
fought  that  of  Rooke,  dismasted  it,  and  pursued  it  all 
next  day  towards  the  coast  of  Barbary,  where  the  Ad- 
miral retired.  The  enemy  lost  six  thousand  men  ;  the 
ship  of  the  Dutch  Yice-Admiral  was  blown  up ;  sev- 
eral others  were  sunk,  and  some  dismasted.  Our  fleet 
lost  neither  ship  nor  mast,  but  the  victory  cost  the  lives 
of  many  distinguished  people,  in  addition  to  those  of 
fifteen  hundred  soldiers  or  sailors  killed  or  wounded. 

Towards  evening  on  the  25th,  by  dint  of  manoeuvres, 
aided  by  the  wind,  our  fleet  came  up  again  with  that 
of  Rooke.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  was  for  attacking 
it  again  on  the  morrow,  and  showed  that  if  the  attack 
were  successful,  Gilbraltar  would  be  the  first  result  of 
the  victory.  That  famous  place,  which  commands  the 
important  strait  of  the  same  name,  had  been  allowed 
to  fall  into  neglect,  and  was  defended  by  a  miserable 
garrison  of  forty  men.  In  this  state  it  had  of  course 
easily  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemies.  But  they 
had  not  yet  had  time  to  man  it  with  a  much  superior 
force,  and  Admiral  Rooke  once  defeated,  it  must  have 
surrendered  to  us. 

The  Comte  de  Toulouse  urged  his  advice  with  all  the 
energy  of  which  he  was  capable,  and  he  was  supported 
in  opinion  by  others  of  more  experience  than  himself. 
But  D'O,  the  mentor  of  the  fleet,  against  whose  counsel 
he  had  been  expressly  ordered  by  the  King  never  to 
act,  opposed  the  project  of  another  attack  with  such 
disdainful  determination,  that  the  Comte  had  no  course 


2O  Memoirs  of 

open  but  to  give  way.  The  annoyance  which  this 
caused  throughout  the  fleet  was  very  great.  It  soon 
was  known  what  would  have  become  of  the  enemy's 
fleet  had  it  been  attacked,  and  that  Gibraltar  would 
have  been  found  in  exactly  the  same  state  as  when 
abandoned.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  acquired  great 
honour  in  this  campaign,  and  his  stupid  teacher  lost 
little,  because  he  had  little  to  lose. 

M.  de  Mantua  having  surrendered  his  state  to  the 
King,  thereby  rendering  us  a  most  important  service 
in  Italy,  found  himself  ill  at  ease  in  his  territory,  which 
had  become  the  theatre  of  war,  and  had  come  incognito 
to  Paris.  He  had  apartments  provided  for  him  in  the 
Luxembourg,  furnished  magnificently  with  the  Crown 
furniture,  and  was  very  graciously  received  by  the 
King.  The  principal  object  of  his  journey  was  to  marry 
some  French  lady ;  and  as  he  made  no  secret  of  this 
intention,  more  than  one  plot  was  laid  in  order  to  pro- 
vide him  with  a  wife.  M.  de  Vaudemont,  intent  upon 
aggrandising  the  house  of  Lorraine,  wished  M.  de 
Mantua  to  marry  a  member  of  that  family,  and  fixed 
upon  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf  for  his  bride.  The  Lor- 
raines  did  all  in  their  power  to  induce  M.  de  Mantua 
to  accept  her.  But  M.  le  Prince  had  also  his  designs 
in  this  matter.  He  had  a  daughter,  whom  he  knew  not 
how  to  get  off  his  hands,  and  he  thought  that  in  more 
ways  than  one  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to  marry 
her  to  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  He  explained  his  views 
to  the  King,  who  gave  him  permission  to  follow  them 
out,  and  promised  to  serve  him  with  all  his  protection. 
But  when  the  subject  was  broached  to  M.  de  Mantua, 
he  declined  this  match  in  such  a  respectful,  yet  firm. 


Saint-Simon  21 

manner  that  M.  le  Prince  felt  he  must  abandon  all 
hope  of  carrying  it  out.  The  Lorraines  were  not  more 
successful  in  their  designs.  When  M.  de  Vaudemont 
had  first  spoken  of  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf,  M.  de 
Mantua  had  appeared  to  listen  favourably.  This  was 
in  Italy.  Now  that  he  was  in  Paris  he  acted  very  dif- 
ferently. It  was  in  vain  that  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf 
was  thrust  in  his  way,  as  though  by  chance,  at  the 
promenades,  in  the  churches  ;  her  beauty,  which  might 
have  touched  many  others,  made  no  impression  upon 
him.  The  fact  was  that  M.  de  Mantua,  even  long  before 
leaving  his  state,  had  fixed  upon  a  wife. 

Supping  one  evening  with  the  Due  de  Lesdiguieres, 
a  little  before  the  death  of  the  latter,  he  saw  a  ring  with 
a  portrait  in  it,  upon  the  Duke's  finger.  He  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  look  at  the  portrait,  was  charmed  with 
it,  and  said  he  should  be  very  happy  to  have  such  a 
beautiful  mistress.  The  Duke  at  this  burst  out  laugh- 
ing, and  said  it  was  the  portrait  of  his  wife.  As  soon 
as  the  Due  de  Lesdiguieres  was  dead,  M.  de  Mantua 
thought  only  of  marrying  the  young  widowed  Duch- 
ess. He  sought  her  everywhere  when  he  arrived  in 
Paris,  but  without  being  able  to  find  her,  because  she 
was  in  the  first  year  of  her  widowhood.  He  therefore 
unbosomed  himself  to  Torcy,  who  reported  the  matter 
to  the  King.  The  King  approved  of  the  design  of  M. 
de  Mantua,  and  charged  the  Marechal  de  Duras  to 
speak  to  the  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres,  who  was  his 
daughter.  The  Duchess  was  equally  surprised  and 
afflicted  when  she  learned  what  was  in  progress.  She 
testified  to  her  father  her  repugnance  to  abandon  her- 
self to  the  caprices  and  the  jealousy  of  an  old  Italian 


22  Memoirs  of 

debauchc;  the  horror  she  felt  at  the  idea  of  being  left 
alone  with  him  in  Italy ;  and  the  reasonable  fear  she 
had  of  her  health,  with  a  man  whose  own  could  not  be 
good. 

I  was  promptly  made  acquainted  with  this  affair; 
for  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  and  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon  were  on  the  most  intimate  terms.  I  did  every- 
thing in  my  power  to  persuade  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres to  consent  to  the  match,  insisting  at  once  on 
her  family  position,  on  the  reason  of  state,  and  on  the 
pleasure  of  ousting  Madame  d'Elboeuf, — but  it  was  all 
in  vain.  I  never  saw  such  firmness.  Pontchartrain, 
who  came  and  reasoned  with  her,  was  even  less  suc- 
cessful than  I,  for  he  excited  her  by  threats  and 
menaces.  M.  le  Prince  himself  supported  us — having 
no  longer  any  hope  for  himself,  and  fearing,  above  all 
things,  M.  de  Mantua's  marriage  with  a  Lorraine — 
and  did  all  he  could  to  persuade  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres to  give  in.  I  renewed  my  efforts  in  the  same 
direction,  but  with  no  better  success  than  before. 
Nevertheless,  M.  de  Mantua,  irritated  by  not  being 
able  to  see  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres,  resolved  to  go 
and  wait  for  her  en  a  Sunday  at  the  Minimes.  He 
found  her  shut  up  in  a  chapel,  and  drew  near  the  door 
in  order  to  see  her  as  she  went  out.  He  was  not  much 
gratified ;  her  thick  crape  veil  was  lowered ;  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  could  get  a  glance  at  her.  Resolved 
to  succeed,  he  spoke  to  Torcy,  intimating  that  Madame 
de  Lesdiguieres  ought  not  to  refuse  such  a  slight 
favour  as  to  allow  herself  to  be  seen  in  a  church.  Torcy 
communicated  this  to  the  King,  who  sent  word  to 
Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  that  she  must  consent  to  the 


Saint-Simon  23 

favour  M.  de  Mantua  demanded.  She  could  not  refuse 
after  this.  M.  de  Mantua  went  accordingly,  and  waited 
for  her  in  the  same  place,  where  he  had  once  already 
so  badly  seen  her.  He  found  her  in  the  chapel,  and 
drew  near  the  door,  as  before.  She  came  out,  her  veil 
raised,  passed  lightly  before  him,  made  him  a  sliding 
courtesy  as  she  glided  by,  in  reply  to  his  bow,  and 
reached  her  coach. 

M.  de  Mantua  was  charmed :  he  redoubled  his  ef- 
forts with  the  King  and  M.  de  Duras  ;  the  matter  was 
discussed  in  full  council,  like  an  affair  of  state — indeed 
it  U'as  one;  and  it  was  resolved  to  amuse  M.  de 
Mantua,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  to  do  everything  to 
vanquish  this  resistance  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres, 
except  employing  the  full  authority  of  the  King,  which 
the  King  himself  did  not  wish  to  exert.  Everything 
was  promised  to  her  on  the  part  of  the  King :  that  it 
should  be  his  Majesty  who  would  make  the  stipula- 
tions of  the  marriage  contract ;  that  it  should  be  his 
Majesty  who  would  give  her  a  dowry,  and  would  guar- 
antee her  return  to  France  if  she  became  a  widow,  and 
assure  her  his  protection  while  she  remained  a  wife: 
in  one  word,  everything  was  tried,  and  in  the  gentlest 
and  most  honourable  manner,  to  persuade  her.  Her 
mother  lent  us  her  house  one  afternoon,  in  order  that 
we  might  speak  more  at  length  and  more  at  our  ease 
there  to  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres  than  we  could  at 
the  Hotel  de  Duras.  We  only  gained  a  torrent  of  tears 
for  our  pains. 

A  few  days  after  this.  I  was  very  much  astonished 
to  hear  Chamillart  relate  to  me  all  that  had  passed  at 
this  interview.  I  learnt  afterwards  that  Madame  de 


24  Memoirs  of 

Lesdiguieres,  fearing  that  if,  entirely  unsupported,  she 
persisted  in  her  refusal,  it  might  draw  upon  her  the 
anger  of  the  King,  had  begged  Chamillart  to  implore 
his  Majesty  not  to  insist  upon  this  marriage.  M.  de 
Mantua  hearing  this,  turned  his  thoughts  elsewhere ; 
and  she  was  at  last  delivered  of  a  pursuit  which  had 
become  a  painful  persecution  to  her.  Chamillart  served 
her  so  well  that  the  affair  came  to  an  end  ;  and  the 
King,  flattered  perhaps  by  the  desire  this  young  Duch- 
ess showed  to  remain  his  subject  instead  of  be- 
coming a  sovereign,  passed  a  eulogium  upon  her  the 
same  evening  in  his  cabinet  to  his  family  and  to  the 
Princesses,  by  whom  it  was  spread  abroad  through 
society. 

I  may  as  well  finish  this  matter  at  once.  The  Lor- 
raines,  who  had  watched  very  closely  the  affair  up  to 
this  point,  took  hope  again  directly  they  heard  of  the 
resolution  M.  de  Mantua  had  formed  to  abandon  his 
pursuit  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres.  They,  in  their 
turn,  were  closely  watched  by  M.  le  Prince,  \vho  so 
excited  the  King  against  them,  that  Madame  d'Elbceuf 
received  orders  from  him  not  to  continue  pressing  her 
suit  upon  M.  de  Mantua.  That  did  not  stop  them. 
They  felt  that  the  King  would  not  interfere  with  them 
by  an  express  prohibition,  and  sure,  by  past  experi- 
ence, on  being  on  better  terms  with  him  afterwards 
than  before,  they  pursued  their  object  with  obstinacy. 
By  dint  of  much  plotting  and  scheming,  and  by  the  aid 
of  their  creatures,  they  contrived  to  overcome  the  re- 
pugnance of  M.  de  Mantua  to  Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf, 
which  at  bottom  could  be  only  caprice — her  beauty, 
her  figure,  and  her  birth  taken  into  account.  But 


Saint-Simon  25 

Mademoiselle  d'Elboeuf,  in  her  turn,  was  as  opposed 
to  marriage  with  M.  de  Mantua  as  Madame  de  Lesdi- 
guieres  had  been.  She  was,  however,  brought  round 
ere  long,  and  then  the  consent  of  the  King  was  the  only 
thing  left  to  be  obtained.  The  Lorraines  made  use  of 
their  usual  suppleness  in  order  to  gain  that.  They  rep- 
resented the  impolicy  of  interfering  with  the  selection 
of  a  sovereign  who  was  the  ally  of  France,  and  who 
wished  to  select  a  wife  from  among  her  subjects,  and 
succeeded  so  well,  that  the  King  determined  to  become 
neutral ;  that  is  to  say,  neither  to  prohibit  nor  to  sanc- 
tion this  match.  M.  le  Prince  was  instrumental  in  in- 
ducing the  King  to  take  this  neutral  position ;  and  he 
furthermore  caused  the  stipulation  to  be  made,  that  it 
should  not  be  celebrated  in  France,  but  at  Mantua. 

After  parting  with  the  King,  M.  de  Mantua,  on  the 
2 ist  of  September,  went  to  Nemours,  slept  there,  and 
then  set  out  for  Italy.  At  the  same  time  Madame  and 
Mademoiselle  d'Elbceuf,  with  Madame  de  Pompadour, 
sister  of  the  former,  passed  through  Fontainebleau 
without  going  to  see  a  soul,  and  followed  their  prey 
lest  he  should  change  his  mind  and  escape  them — 
until  the  road  he  was  to  take  branched  off  from  that 
they  were  to  go  by ;  he  in  fact  intending  to  travel  by 
sea  and  they  by  land.  On  the  way  their  fears  re- 
doubled. Arrived  at  Nevers,  and  lodged  in  a  hostel- 
rie,  they  thought  it  would  not  be  well  to  commit  them- 
selves further  without  more  certain  security.  Madame 
de  Pompadour  therefore  proposed  to  M.  de  Mantua 
not  to  delay  his  happiness  any  longer,  but  to  celebrate 
his  marriage  at  once.  He  defended  himself  as  well  as 
he  could,  but  was  at  last  obliged  to  give  in.  During 


26  Memoirs  of 

this  indecent  dispute,  the  Bishop  was  sent  to.  He  had 
just  died,  and  the  Grand  Vicar,  not  knowing  what 
might  be  the  wishes  of  the  King  upon  this  marriage, 
refused  to  celebrate  it.  The  chaplain  was  therefore  ap- 
pealed to,  and  he  at  once  married  Mademoiselle  d'El- 
bceuf  to  M.  de  Mantua  in  the  hotel.  As  soon  as  the 
ceremony  was  over,  Madame  d'Elboeuf  wished  to  leave 
her  daughter  alone  with  M.  de  Mantua,  and  although 
he  strongly  objected  to  this,  everybody  quitted  the 
room,  leaving  only  the  newly  married  couple  there, 
and  Madame  de  Pompadour  outside  upon  the  step 
listening  to  what  passed  between  them.  But  finding 
after  a  while  that  both  were  very  much  embarrassed, 
and  that  M.  de  Mantua  did  little  but  cry  out  for  the 
company  to  return,  she  conferred  with  her  sister,  and 
they  agreed  to  give  him  his  liberty.  Immediately  he 
had  obtained  it,  he  mounted  his  horse,  though  it  was 
not  early,  and  did  not  see  them  again  until  they  reached 
Italy — though  all  went  the  same  road  as  far  as  Lyons. 
The  news  of  this  strange  celebration  of  marriage  was 
soon  spread  abroad  with  all  the  ridicule  which  attached 
to  it. 

The  King  was  very  much  annoyed  when  he  learnt 
that  his  orders  had  been  thus  disobeyed.  The  Lor- 
raines  plastered  over  the  affair  by  representing  that 
they  feared  an  affront  from  M.  de  Mantua,  and  indeed 
it  did  not  seem  at  all  unlikely  that  M.  de  Mantua, 
forced  as  it  were  into  compliance  with  their  wishes, 
might  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  reach  Italy 
and  then  laugh  at  them.  Meanwhile,  Madame  d'El- 
boeuf and  her  daughter  embarked  on  board  the  royal 
galleys  and  started  for  Italy.  On  the  way  they  were 


Saint-Simon  27 

fiercely  chased  by  some  African  corsairs,  and  it  is  a 
great  pity  they  were  not  taken  to  finish  the  romance. 

However,  upon  arriving  in  Italy,  the  marriage  was 
again  celebrated,  this  time  with  all  the  forms  necessary 
for  the  occasion.  But  Madame  d'Elbceuf  had  no  cause 
to  rejoice  that  she  had  succeeded  in  thus  disposing  of 
her  daughter.  The  new  Duchesse  de  Mantua  was 
guarded  by  her  husband  with  the  utmost  jealousy. 
She  was  not  allowed  to  see  anybody  except  her  mother, 
and  that  only  for  an  hour  each  day.  Her  women  en- 
tered her  apartment  only  to  dress  and  undress  her. 
The  Duke  walled  up  very  high  all  the  windows  of  his 
house,  and  caused  his  wife  to  be  guarded  by  old 
women.  She  passed  her  days  thus  in  a  cruel  prison. 
This  treatment,  which  I  did  not  expect,  and  the  little 
consideration,  not  to  say  contempt,  shown  here  for  M. 
de  Mantua  since  his  departure,  consoled  me  much  for 
the  invincible  obstinacy  of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres. 
Six  months  after,  Madame  d'Elboeuf  returned,  beside 
herself  with  vexation,  but  too  vain  to  show  it.  She 
disguised  the  misfortune  of  her  daughter,  and  appeared 
to  be  offended  if  it  was  spoken  of ;  but  all  our  letters 
from  the  army  showed  that  the  news  was  true.  The 
strangest  thing  of  all  is,  that  the  Lorraines  after  this 
journey  were  as  well  treated  by  the  King  as  if  they 
had  never  undertaken  it ;  a  fact  which  shows  their  art 
and  ascendency. 

I  have  dwelt  too  long  perhaps  upon  this  matter.  It 
appeared  to  me  to  merit  attention  by  its  singularity, 
and  still  more  so  because  it  is  by  facts  of  this  sort  that 
is  shown  what  was  the  composition  of  the  Court  of  the 
King. 


28  Memoirs  of 

About  this  time  the  Comtesse  d'Auvergne  finished 
a  short  life  by  an  illness  very  strange  and  uncommon. 
When  she  married  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  she  was  a 
Huguenot,  and  he  much  wanted  to  make  her  turn 
Catholic.  A  famous  advocate  of  that  time,  who  was 
named  Chardon,  had  been  a  Huguenot,  and  his  wife 
also ;  they  had  made  a  semblance,  however,  of  abjur- 
ing, but  made  no  open  profession  of  Catholicism. 
Chardon  was  sustained  by  his  great  reputation,  and 
by  the  number  of  protectors  he  had  made  for  himself. 
One  morning  he  and  his  wife  were  in  their  coach  be- 
fore the  Hotel-Dieu,  waiting  for  a  reply  that  their 
lackey  was  a  very  long  time  in  bringing  them.  Ma- 
dame Chardon  glanced  by  chance  upon  the  grand  por- 
tal of  Notre  Dame,  and  little  by  little  fell  into  a  pro- 
found reverie,  which  might  be  better  called  reflection. 
Her  husband,  who  at  last  perceived  this,  asked  her 
what  had  sent  her  into  such  deep  thought,  and  pushed 
her  elbow  even  to  draw  a  reply  from  her.  She  told  him 
then  what  she  was  thinking  about.  Pointing  to  Notre 
Dame,  she  said  that  it  was  many  centuries  before 
Luther  and  Calvin  that  those  images  of  saints  had  been 
sculptured  over  that  portal ;  that  this  proved  that  saints 
had  long  since  been  invoked  ;  the  opposition  of  the  re- 
formers to  this  ancient  opinion  was  a  novelty ;  that 
this  novelty  rendered  suspicious  other  dogmas  against 
the  antiquity  of  Catholicism  that  they  taught ;  that 
these  reflections,  which  she  had  never  before  made, 
gave  her  much  disquietude,  and  made  her  form  the 
resolution  to  seek  to  enlighten  herself. 

Chardon  thought  his  wife  right,  and  from  that  day 
they  laid  themselves  out  to  seek  the  truth,  then  to  con- 


Saint-Simon  29 

suit,  then  to  be  instructed.  This  lasted  a  year,  and  then 
they  made  a  new  abjuration,  and  both  ever  afterwards 
passed  their  lives  in  zeal  and  good  works.  Madame 
Chardon  converted  many  Huguenots.  The  Comte 
d'Auvergne  took  his  wife  to  her.  The  Countess  was 
converted  by  her,  and  became  a  very  good  Catholic. 
When  she  died  she  was  extremely  regretted  by  all  the 
relatives  of  her  husband,  although  at  first  they  had 
looked  upon  her  coldly. 

In  the  month  of  this  September,  a  strange  attempt  at 
assassination  occurred.  Vervins  had  been  forced  into 
many  suits  against  his  relatives,  and  was  upon  the 
point  of  gaining  all  them,  when  one  of  his  cousins- 
german,  who  called  himself  the  Abbe  de  Pre  caused 
him  to  be  attacked  as  he  passed  in  his  coach  along  the 
Quai  de  laTournelle,  before  the  community  of  Madame 
de  Miramion.  Vervins  was  wounded  with  several 
sword  cuts,  and  also  his  coachman,  who  wished  to  de- 
fend him.  In  consequence  of  the  complaint  Vervins 
made,  the  Abbe  escaped  abroad,  whence  he  never  re- 
turned, and  soon  after,  his  crime  being  proved,  was 
condemned  to  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel.  Vervins 
had  long  been  menaced  with  an  attack  by  the  Abbe. 
Vervins  was  an  agreeable,  well-made  man,  but  very 
idle.  He  had  entered  the  army ;  but  quitted  it  soon, 
and  retired  to  his  estates  in  Picardy.  There  he  shut 
himself  up  without  any  cause  of  disgust  or  of  displeas- 
ure, without  being  in  any  embarrassment,  for  on  the 
contrary  he  was  well  to  do,  and  all  his  affairs  were  in 
good  order,  and  he  never  married  ;  without  motives  of 
piety,  for  piety  was  not  at  all  in  his  vein  ;  without  being 
in  bad  health,  for  his  health  was  always  perfect ;  with- 


30  Saint-Simon 

out  a  taste  for  improvement,  for  no  workmen  were  ever 
seen  in  his  house ;  still  less  on  account  of  the  chase, 
for  he  never  went  to  it.  Yet  he  stayed  in  his  house  for 
several  years,  without  intercourse  with  a  soul,  and, 
what  is  most  incomprehensible,  without  budging  from 
his  bed,  except  to  allow  it  to  be  made.  He  dined  there, 
and  often  all  alone ;  he  transacted  what  little  business 
he  had  to  do  there,  and  received  while  there  the  few 
people  he  could  not  refuse  admission  to  ;  and  each  day, 
from  the  moment  he  opened  his  eyes  until  he  closed 
them  again,  worked  at  tapestry,  or  read  a  little ;  he 
persevered  until  his  death  in  this  strange  fashion  of 
existence ;  so  uniquely  singular,  that  I  have  wished  to 
describe  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Fascination  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne — Fortunes  of  Nan- 
gis — He  is  Loved  by  the  Duchess  and  Her  Dame  d'Atours 
— Discretion  of  the  Court — Maulevrier — His  Courtship  of 
the  Duchess — Singular  Trick — Its  Strange  Success — Mad 
Conduct  of  Maulevrier — He  is  Sent  to  Spain — His  Advent- 
ures There — His  Return  and  Tragical  Catastrophe. 

THERE  presents  itself  to  my  memory  an  anecdote 
which  it  would  he  very  prudent  perhaps  to  he 
silent  upon,  and  which  is  very  curious  for  anybody 
who  has  seen  things  so  closely  as  I  have,  to  describe. 
What  determines  me  to  relate  it  is,  that  the  fact  is  not 
altogether  unknown,  and  that  every  Court  swarms 
with  similar  adventures.  Must  it  he  said  then?  We 
had  amongst  us  a  charming  young  Princess  who,  by 
her  graces,  her  attentions,  and  her  original  manners, 
had  taken  possession  of  the  hearts  of  the  King,  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  of  her  husband,  Monsei- 
gneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  The  extreme  discontent 
so  justly  felt  against  her  father,  M.  de  Savoie,  had  not 
made  the  slightest  alteration  in  their  tenderness  for  her. 
The  King,  who  hid  nothing  from  her,  who  worked 
with  his  ministers  in  her  presence  whenever  she  liked 
to  enter,  took  care  not  to  say  a  word  in  her  hearing 
against  her  father.  In  private,  she  clasped  the  King 

31  2 


32  Memoirs  of 

round  the  neck  at  all  hours,  jumped  upon  his  knees, 

tormented  him  with  all  sorts  of  sportiveness,  rum- 
maged among  his  papers,  opened  his  letters  and  read 
them  in  his  presence,  sometimes  in  spite  of  him;  and 
acted  in  the  same  manner  with  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non.  Despite  this  extreme  liberty,  she  never  spoke 
against  any  one :  gracious  to  all,  she  endeavoured  to 
ward  off  blows  from  all  whenever  she  could ;  \vas 
attentive  to  the  private  comforts  of  the  King,  even 
the  humblest:  kind  to  all  who  served  her,  and  living 
with  her  ladies,  as  with  friends,  in  complete  liberty, 
old  and  young;  she  was  the  darling  of  the  Court, 
adored  by  all ;  everybody,  great  and  small,  was  anxious 
to  please  her ;  everybody  missed  her  when  she  was 
away ;  when  she  re-appeared  the  void  was  filled  up  ; 
in  a  word,  she  had  attached  all  hearts  to  her ;  but  while 
in  this  brilliant  situation  she  lost  her  own. 

Nangis,  now  a  very  common-place  Marshal  of 
France,  was  at  that  time  in  full  bloom.  He  had  an 
agreeable  but  not  an  uncommon  face;  was  well  made, 
without  anything  marvellous ;  and  had  been  educated 
in  intrigue  by  the  Marechale  de  Rochefort,  his  grand- 
mother, and  Madame  de  Blansac,  his  mother,  who 
were  skilled  mistresses  of  that  art.  Early  introduced 
by  them  into  the  great  world  of  \vhich  they  were,  so 
to  speak,  the  centre,  he  had  no  talent  but  that  of  pleas- 
ing women,  of  speaking  their  language,  and  of  monop- 
olising the  most  desirable  by  a  discretion  beyond  his 
years,  and  which  did  not  belong  to  his  time.  No- 
body was  more  in  vogue  than  he.  He  had  had  the 
command  of  a  regiment  when  he  was  quite  a  child. 
He  had  shown  firmness,  application,  and  brilliant 


Saint-Simon  33 

valour  in  war,  that  the  ladies  had  made  the  most  of, 
and  they  sufficed  at  his  age  ;  he  was  of  the  Court  of 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  about  the  same 
age,  and  w^ell  treated  by  him. 

The  Due  de  Bourgogne,  passionately  in  love  with 
his  wife,  \vas  not  so  well  made  as  Xangis ;  but  the 
Princess  reciprocated  his  ardour  so  perfectly  that  up 
to  his  death  he  never  suspected  that  her  glances  had 
wandered  to  any  one  else.  They  fell,  however,  upon 
Nangis,  and  soon  redoubled.  Xangis  was  not  un- 
grateful, but  he  feared  the  thunderbolt ;  and  his  heart, 
too,  was  already  engaged.  Madame  de  la  Yrilliere, 
who,  without  beauty,  was  pretty  and  grateful  as  Love, 
had  made  this  conquest.  She  was,  as  I  have  said, 
daughter  of  Madame  dc  Mailly,  Dame  d'Atours  of 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  ;  and  was  always 
near  her.  Jealousy  soon  enlightened  her  as  to  what 
was  taking  place.  Far  from  yielding  her  conquest  to 
the  Duchess,  she  made  a  point  of  preserving  it,  of 
disputing  its  possession,  and  carrying  it  off.  This 
struggle  threw  Xangis  into  a  terrible  embarrassment. 
He  feared  the  fury  of  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere,  who 
affected  to  be  more  ready  to  break  out  than  in  reality 
she  was.  Besides  his  love  for  her,  he  feared  the  re- 
sult of  an  outburst,  and  already  saw  his  fortune  lost. 
On  the  other  hand,  any  reserve  of  his  towards  the 
Duchess,  who  had  so  much  power  in  her  hands — and 
seemed  destined  to  have  more — and  who  he  knew  was 
not  likely  to  suffer  a  rival — might,  he  felt,  be  his  ruin. 
This  perplexity,  for  those  who  were  aware  of  it,  gave 
rise  to  continual  scenes.  I  was  then  a  constant  visitor 
of  Madame  dc  Blansac,  at  Paris,  and  of  the  Marechale 
VOL.  II.— 3 


34  Memoirs  of 

de  Rochefort,  at  Versailles ;  and,  through  them  and 
several  other  ladies  of  the  Court,  with  whom  I  was 
intimate,  I  learnt,  day  by  day,  everything  that  passed. 
In  addition  to  the  fact  that  nothing  diverted  me  more, 
the  results  of  this  affair  might  be  great ;  and  it  was 
my  especial  ambition  to  be  well  informed  of  every- 
thing. At  length,  all  members  of  the  Court  who  were 
assiduous  and  enlightened  understood  the  state  of 
affairs  ;  but  either  through  fear  or  from  love  to  the 
Duchess,  the  whole  Court  was  silent,  saw  everything, 
whispered  discreetly,  and  actually  kept  the  secret  that 
was  not  entrusted  to  it.  The  struggle  between  the  two 
ladies,  not  without  bitterness,  and  sometimes  insolence 
on  the  part  of  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere,  nor  without 
suffering  and  displeasure  gently  manifested  on  the  part 
of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  was  for  a  long  time  a  singu- 
lar sight. 

Whether  Nangis,  too  faithful  to  his  first  love,  needed 
some  grains  of  jealousy  to  excite  him,  or  whether 
things  fell  out  naturally,  it  happened  that  he  found  a 
rival.  Maulevrier,  son  of  a  brother  of  Colbert  who 
had  died  of  grief  at  not  being  named  Marshal  of 
France,  was  this  rival.  He  had  married  a  daughter 
of  the  Marechal  de  Tesse,  and  was  not  very  agreeable 
in  appearance — his  face,  indeed,  was  very  common- 
place. He  was  by  no  means  framed  for  gallantry ; 
but  he  had  wit,  and  a  mind  fertile  in  intrigues,  with  a 
measureless  ambition  that  was  sometimes  pushed  to 
madness.  His  wife  was  pretty,  not  clever,  quarrel- 
some, and  under  a  virginal  appearance,  mischievous 
to  the  last  degree.  As  daughter  of  a  man  for  whom 
Madame  cle  Bourgogne  had  much  gratitude  for  the 


Saint-Simon  35 

part  he  had  taken  in  negotiating  her  marriage,  and 
the  Peace  of  Savoy,  she  was  easily  enabled  to  make 
her  way  at  Court,  and  her  husband  with  her.  He  soon 
sniffed  what  was  passing  in  respect  to  Nangis,  and 
obtained  means  of  access  to  Madame  cle  Bourgogne, 
through  the  influence  of  his  father-in-law ;  was  as- 
siduous in  his  attentions ;  and  at  length,  excited  by 
example,  dared  to  sigh.  Tired  of  not  being  under- 
stood, he  ventured  to  write.  It  is  pretended  that  he 
sent  his  letters  through  one  of  the  Court  ladies,  who 
thought  they  came  from  Tesse,  delivered  them,  and 
handed  him  back  the  answers,  as  though  for  delivery 
by  him.  I  will  not  add  what  more  was  believed.  I 
will  simply  say  that  this  affair  was  as  soon  perceived  as 
had  been  the  other,  and  was  treated  with  the  same 
silence. 

Under  pretext  of  friendship,  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
went  more  than  once — on  account  of  the  speedy  de- 
parture of  her  husband  (for  the  army),  attended  some- 
times by  La  Maintenon, — to  the  house  of  Madame  de 
Maulevrier,  to  weep  with  her.  The  Court  smiled. 
Whether  the  tears  were  for  Madame  de  Maulevrier  or 
for  Nangis,  was  doubtful.  But  Nangis,  nevertheless, 
aroused  by  this  rivalry,  threw  Madame  de  la  Vrilliere 
into  terrible  grief,  and  into  a  humour  over  which  she 
was  not  mistress. 

This  tocsin  made  itself  heard  by  Maulevrier.  What 
will  not  a  man  think  of  doing  when  possessed  to  excess 
by  love  or  ambition?  He  pretended  to  have  some- 
thing the  matter  with  his  chest,  put  himself  on  a  milk 
diet,  made  believe  that  he  had  lost  his  voice,  and  was 
sufficiently  master  of  himself  to  refrain  from  uttering 


36  Memoirs  of 

an  intelligible  word  during-  a  whole  year ;  by  these 
means  evading  the  campaign  and  remaining  at  the 
Court.  He  was  mad  enough  to  relate  this  project, 
and  many  others,  to  his  friend  the  Due  de  Lorges, 
from  whom,  in  turn,  I  learnt  it.  The  fact  was,  that 
bringing  himself  thus  to  the  necessity  of  never  speak- 
ing to  anybody  except  in  their  ear,  he  had  the  liberty 
of  speaking  low  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  before  all  the  Court  without  impropriety  and 
without  suspicion.  In  this  manner  he  said  to  her 
whatever  he  wished  day  by  day,  and  was  never  over- 
heard. He  also  contrived  to  say  things  the  short 
answers  to  which  were  equally  unheard.  He  so  ac- 
customed people  to  this  manner  of  speaking  that  they 
took  no  more  notice  of  it  than  was  expressed  in  pity 
for  such  a  sad  state ;  but  it  happened  that  those  who 
approached  the  nearest  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  when  Maulevrier  was  at  her  side,  soon 
knew  enough  not  to  be  eager  to  draw  near  her  again 
when  she  was  thus  situated.  This  trick  lasted  more 
than  a  year  :  his  conversation  was  principally  composed 
of  reproaches — but  reproaches  rarely  succeeded  in 
love.  Maulevrier,  judging  by  the  ill-humour  of  Ma- 
dame de  la  Yrilliere,  believed  Nangis  to  be  happy. 
Jealousy  and  rage  transported  him  at  last  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  folly. 

One  day,  as  Madame  de  Bourgogne  was  coming 
from  mass  and  he  knew  that  Dangeau,  her  chevalier 
d'honneur,  was  absent,  he  gave  her  his  hand.  The  at- 
tendants had  accustomed  themselves  to  let  him  have 
this  honour,  on  acount  of  his  distinguished  voice,  so 
as  to  allow  him  to  speak  by  the  way,  and  retired  re- 


Saint-Simon  37 

spectfully  so  as  not  to  hear  what  he  said.  The  ladies 
always  followed  far  behind,  so  that,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  Court,  he  had,  from  the  chapel  to  the  apartments 
of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  the  full  advantages  of  a 
private  interview — advantages  that  he  had  availed  him- 
self of  several  times.  On  this  day  he  railed  against 
Nangis  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  called  him  by  all 
sorts  of  names,  threatened  to  tell  everything  to  the 
King  and  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  to  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  squeezed  her  fingers  as  if  he  would 
break  them,  and  led  her  in  this  manner,  like  a  madman 
as  he  was,  to  her  apartments.  Upon  entering  them 
she  was  ready  to  swoon.  Trembling  all  over  she  en- 
tered her  wardrobe,  called  one  of  her  favourite  ladies, 
Madame  de  Nogarct,  to  her,  related  what  had  oc- 
curred, saying  she  knew  not  how  she  had  reached  her 
rooms,  or  how  it  was  she  had  not  sunk  beneath  the 
floor,  or  died.  She  had  never  been  so  dismayed.  The 
same  day  Madame  de  Xogaret  related  this  to  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  and  to  me,  in  the  strictest  confidence. 
She  counselled  the  Duchess  to  behave  gently  with 
such  a  dangerous  madman,  and  to  avoid  committing 
herself  in  any  way  with  him.  The  worst  was,  that  after 
this  he  threatened  and  said  many  things  against  Xan- 
gis,  as  a  man  with  whom  he  was  deeply  offended,  and 
whom  he  meant  to  call  to  account.  Although  he  gave 
no  reason  for  this,  the  reason  was  only  too  evident. 
The  fear  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne  at  this  may  be 
imagined,  and  also  that  of  Xangis.  lie  was  brave  and 
cared  for  nobody  ;  but  to  be  mixed  up  in  such  an  affair 
as  this  made  him  quake  with  fright.  lie  beheld  his 
fortune  and  his  happiness  in  the  hands  of  a  furious 


38  Memoirs  of 

madman.  He  shunned  Maulevrier  from  that  time  as 
much  as  possible,  showed  himself  but  little,  and  held 
his  peace. 

For  six  weeks  Madame  de  Bourgogne  lived  in  the 
most  measured  manner,  and  in  mortal  tremors  of  fear, 
without,  however,  anything  happening.  I  know  not 
who  warned  Tesse  of  what  was  going  on.  But  when 
he  learnt  it  he  acted  like  a  man  of  ability.  He  per- 
suaded his  son-in-law,  Maulevrier,  to  follow  him  to 
Spain,  as  to  a  place  where  his  fortune  was  assured  to 
him.  He  spoke  to  Fagon,  who  saw  all  and  knew  all. 
He  understood  matters  in  a  moment,  and  at  once  said, 
that  as  so  many  remedies  had  been  tried  ineffectually 
for  Maulevrier,  he  must  go  to  a  warmer  climate,  as  a 
winter  in  France  would  inevitably  kill  him.  It  was 
then  as  a  remedy,  and  as  people  go  to  the  waters,  that 
he  went  to  Spain.  The  King  and  all  the  Court  be- 
lieved this,  and  neither  the  King  nor  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  offered  any  objections.  As  soon  as  Tesse  knew 
this  he  hurried  his  son-in-law  out  of  the  realm,  and  so 
put  a  stop  to  his  follies  and  the  mortal  fear  they  had 
caused.  To  finish  this  adventure  at  once,  although  it 
will  lead  me  far  beyond  the  date  of  other  matters  to  be 
spoken  of  after,  let  me  say  what  became  of  Maulevrier 
after  this  point  of  the  narrative. 

He  went  first  to  Spain  with  Tesse.  On  the  way 
they  had  an  interview  with  Madame  des  Ursins,  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  her  favour  so  completely,  that, 
upon  arriving  at  Madrid,  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Spain,  informed  of  this,  welcomed  them  with  much 
cordiality.  Maulevrier  soon  became  a  great  favourite 
with  the  Queen  of  Spain.  It  has  been  said  that  he 


Saint-Simon  39 

wished  to  please  her,  and  that  he  succeeded.  At  all 
events  he  often  had  long  interviews  with  her  in  private, 
and  these  made  people  think  and  talk. 

Maulevrier  began  to  believe  it  time  to  reap  after 
having  so  well  sown.  He  counted  upon  nothing  less 
than  being  made  grandee  of  Spain,  and  would  have 
obtained  this  favour  but  for  his  indiscretion.  News 
of  what  was  in  store  for  him  was  noised  abroad.  The 
Due  de  Grammont,  then  our  ambassador  at  Madrid, 
wrote  word  to  the  King  of  the  rumours  that  were  in 
circulation  of  Maulevrier's  audacious  conduct  towards 
the  Queen  of  Spain,  and  of  the  reward  it  was  to  meet 
with.  The  King  at  once  sent  a  very  strong  letter  to 
the  King  of  Spain  about  Maulevrier,  who,  by  the  same 
courier,  was  prohibited  from  accepting  any  favour  that 
might  be  offered  him.  He  was  ordered  at  the  same 
time  to  join  Tesse  at  Gibraltar.  He  had  already  done 
so  at  the  instance  of  Tesse  himself ;  so  the  courier  went 
from  Madrid  to  Gibraltar  to  find  him.  His  rage  and 
vexation  upon  seeing  himself  deprived  of  the  recom- 
pense he  had  considered  certain  were  very  great.  But 
they  yielded  in  time  to  the  hopes  he  formed  of  success, 
and  he  determined  to  set  off  for  Madrid  and  thence 
to  Versailles.  His  father-in-law  tried  to  retain  him 
at  the  siege,  but  in  vain.  His  representations  and  his 
authority  were  alike  useless.  Maulevrier  hoped  to 
gain  over  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain  so  completely, 
that  our  King  would  be  forced,  as  it  were,  to  range 
himself  on  their  side  ;  but  the  Due  de  Grammont  at 
once  wrote  word  that  Maulevrier  had  left  the  siege  of 
Gibraltar  and  returned  to  Madrid.  This  disobedience 
was  at  once  chastised.  A  courier  was  immediately  de- 


40  Memoirs  of 

spatched  to  Maulevrier,  commanding  him  to  set  out 
for  France.  He  took  leave  of  the  King  and  Queen  of 
Spain  like  a  man  without  hope,  and  left  Spain.  The 
most  remarkable  thing  is,  that  upon  arriving  at  Paris, 
and  finding  the  Court  at  Marly,  and  his  wife  there 
also,  he  asked  permission  to  go  too,  tlie  husbands 
being  allowed  by  right  to  accompany  their  wives  there, 
and  the  King,  to  avoid  a  disturbance,  did  not  refuse 
him. 

At  first  everything  seemed  to  smile  upon  Maule- 
vrier. He  had,  as  I  have  said,  made  friends  with 
Madame  des  Ursins  when  he  was  on  the  road  to 
Spain.  He  had  done  so  chiefly  by  vaunting  his  inti- 
macy with  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and  by  showing 
to  Madame  des  Ursins  that  he  was  in  many  of  the 
secrets  of  the  Court.  Accordingly,  upon  his  return, 
she  took  him  by  the  hand  and  showed  a  disposition 
towards  him  which  could  not  fail  to  reinstate  him  in 
favour.  She  spoke  well  of  him  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  who,  always  much  smitten  with  new  friends, 
received  him  well,  and  often  had  conversations  with 
him  which  lasted  more  than  three  hours.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  mentioned  him  to  the  King,  and  Maule- 
vrier, who  had  returned  out  of  all  hope,  now  saw  him- 
self in  a  more  favourable  position  than  ever. 

But  the  old  cause  of  trouble  still  existed,  and  with 
fresh  complications.  Xangis  was  still  in  favour,  and 
his  appearance  made  Maulevrier  miserable.  There 
was  a  new  rival  too  in  the  field,  the  Abbe  de  Polignac. 

Pleasing,  nay  most  fascinating  in  manner,  the  Abbe 
was  a  man  to  gain  all  hearts.  He  stopped  at  no 
flattery  to  succeed  in  this.  One  day  when  following 


Saint-Simon  41 

the  King  through  the  gardens  of  Marly,  it  came  on  to 
rain.  The  King  considerately  noticed  the  Abbe's 
dress,  little  calculated  to  keep  off  rain.  ''  It  is  no 
matter,  Sire,"  said  De  Polignac,  "  the  rain  of  Marly 
does  not  wet."  People  laughed  mudi  at  this,  and 
these  words  were  a  standing  reproach  to  the  soft- 
spoken  Abbe. 

One  of  the  means  by  which  the  Abbe  gained  the 
favour  of  the  King  was  by  being  the  lover  of  Madame 
du  Maine.  His  success  at  length  was  great  in  every 
direction.  He  even  envied  the  situations  of  Xangis 
and  Maulevrier ;  and  sought  to  participate  in  the  same 
happiness.  He  took  the  same  road.  Madame  d'O 
and  the  Marechale  de  Cceuvres  became  his  friends. 
He  sought  to  be  heard,  and  t\.'as  heard.  At  last  he 
faced  the  danger  of  the  Swiss,  and  on  fine  nights  was 
seen  with  the  Duchess  in  the  gardens.  Xangis  di- 
minished in  favour.  Maulevrier  on  his  return  in- 
creased in  fury.  The  Abbe  met  with  the  same  fate  as 
they :  everything  was  perceived :  people  talked  about 
the  matter  in  whispers,  but  silence  was  kept.  This 
triumph,  in  spite  of  his  age,  did  not  satisfy  the  Abbe : 
he  aimed  at  something  more  solid.  He  wished  to 
arrive  at  the  cardinalship,  and  to  further  his  views  he 
thought  it  advisable  to  ingratiate  himself  into  the 
favour  of  Monsieur  de  Bourgogne.  He  sought  intro- 
duction to  them  through  friends  of  mine,  whom  I 
warned  against  him  as  a  man  without  scruple,  and  in- 
tent only  upon  advancing  himself.  My  warnings  were 
in  vain.  My  friends  would  not  heed  me,  and  the  Abbe 
de  Polignac  succeeded  in  gaining  the  confidence  of 
Monsieur  de  Bourgogne,  as  \vell  as  the  favour  of 
Madame  de  Bourgogne. 


42  Memoirs  of 

Maulevrier  had  thus  two  sources  of  annoyance — 
the  Abbe  de  Polignac  and  Nangis.  Of  the  latter  he 
showed  himself  so  jealous,  that  Madame  de  Maule- 
vrier, out  of  pique,  made  advances  to  him.  Nangis, 
to  screen  himself  the  better,  replied  to  her.  Maule- 
vrier perceived  this.  He  knew  his  wife  to  be  suffi- 
ciently wicked  to  make  him  fear  her.  So  many 
troubles  of  heart  and  brain  transported  him.  He  lost 
his  head. 

One  day  the  Marechale  de  Cceuvres  came  to  see 
him,  apparently  on  some  message  of  reconciliation. 
He  shut  the  door  upon  her ;  barricaded  her  within,  and 
through  the  door  quarrelled  with  her,  even  to  abuse, 
for  an  hour,  during  which  she  had  the  patience  to  re- 
main there  without  being  able  to  see  him.  After  this 
lie  went  rarely  to  Court,  but  generally  kept  himself 
shut  up  at  home. 

Sometimes  he  would  go  out  all  alone  at  the  strangest 
hours,  take  a  fiacre  and  drive  away  to  the  back  of  the 
Chartreux  or  to  other  remote  spots.  Alighting  there, 
he  would  whistle,  and  a  grey-headed  old  man  would 
advance  and  give  him  a  packet,  or  one  would  be  thrown 
to  him  from  a  window,  or  he  would  pick  up  a  box  filled 
with  despatches,  hidden  behind  a  post.  I  heard  of 
these  mysterious  doings  from  people  to  whom  he  was 
vain  and  indiscreet  enough  to  boast  of  them.  He  con- 
tinually wrote  letters  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and 
to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  but  more  frequently  to  the 
former.  Madame  Cantin  was  their  agent ;  and  I  know 
people  who  have  seen  letters  of  hers  in  which  she 
assured  Maulevrier,  in  the  strongest  terms,  that  he 
might  ever  reckon  on  the  Duchess. 


Saint-Simon  43 

He  made  a  last  journey  to  Versailles,  where  he  saw 
his  mistress  in  private,  and  quarrelled  with  her  cruelly. 
After  dining  with  Torcy  he  returned  to  Paris.  There, 
torn  by  a  thousand  storms  of  love,  of  jealousy,  of  am- 
bition, his  head  was  so  troubled  that  doctors  were 
obliged  to  be  called  in,  and  he  was  forbidden  to  see 
only  the  most  indispensable  persons,  and  those  at  the 
hours  when  he  was  least  ill.  A  hundred  visions  passed 
through  his  brain.  Now  like  a  madman  he  would 
speak  only  of  Spain,  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  of 
Nangis,  whom  he  wished  to  kill  or  to  have  assassi- 
nated ;  now  full  of  remorse  towards  M.  de  Bourgogne, 
he  made  reflections  so  curious  to  hear,  that  no  one 
dared  to  remain  with  him,  and  he  was  left  alone.  At 
other  times,  recalling  his  early  days,  he  had  nothing 
but  ideas  of  retreat  and  penitence.  Then  a  confession 
was  necessary  in  order  to  banish  his  despair  as  to  the 
mercy  of  God.  Often  he  thought  himself  very  ill  and 
upon  the  point  of  death. 

The  world,  however,  and  even  his  nearest  friends 
persuaded  themselves  that  he  was  only  playing  a  part ; 
and  hoping  to  put  an  end  to  it,  they  declared  to  him 
that  he  passed  for  mad  in  society,  and  that  it  behoved 
him  to  rise  out  of  such  a  strange  state  and  show  himself. 
This  was  the  last  blow  and  it  overwhelmed  him. 
Furious  at  finding  that  this  opinion  was  ruining  all  the 
designs  of  his  ambition,  he  delivered  himself  up  in 
despair.  Although  watched  with  extreme  care  by  his 
wife,  by  particular  friends,  and  by  his  servants,  he  took 
his  measures  so  well,  that  on  the  Good  Friday  of  the 
year  1/06,  at  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he 
slipped  away  from  them  all,  entered  a  passage  behind 


44  Saint-Simon 

his  room,  opened  the  window,  threw  himself  into  the 
court  below,  and  dashed  out  his  brains  upon  the  pave- 
ment. Such  was  the  end  of  an  ambitious  man,  who, 
by  his  wild  and  dangerous  passions,  lost  his  wits,  and 
then  his  life,  a  tragic  victim  of  himself. 

Madame  de  Bourgogne  learnt  the  news  at  night. 
In  public  she  showed  no  emotion,  but  in  private  some 
tears  escaped  her.  They  might  have  been  of  pity,  but 
were  not  so  charitably  interpreted.  Soon  after,  it  was 
noticed  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  seemed  embar- 
rassed and  harsh  towards  Madame  de  Bourgogne. 
It  was  no  longer  doubted  that  Madame  de  Maintenon 
had  heard  the  whole  story.  She  often  had  long  inter- 
views with  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  who  always  left 
them  in  tears.  Her  sadness  grew  so  much,  and  her 
eyes  were  so  often  red,  that  Monsieur  de  Bourgogne  at 
last  became  alarmed.  But  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the 
truth,  and  was  easily  satisfied  with  the  explanation  he 
received.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  felt  the  necessity, 
however,  of  appearing  gayer,  and  showed  herself  so. 
As  for  the  Abbe  de  Polignac,  it  was  felt  that  that  dan- 
gerous person  was  best  away.  He  received  therefore 
a  post  which  called  him  away,  as  it  were,  into  exile  ;  and 
though  he  delayed  his  departure  as  long  as  possible, 
was  at  length  obliged  to  go.  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
took  leave  of  him  in  a  manner  that  showed  how  much 
she  was  affected.  Some  rather  insolent  verses  were 
written  upon  this  event ;  and  were  found  written  on 
a  balustrade  by  Madame,  who  was  not  discreet  enough 
or  good  enough  to  forget  them.  But  they  made  little 
noise ;  everybody  loved  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and 
hid  these  verses  as  much  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Death  of  M.  de  Duras — Selfishness  of  the  King — Anecdote  of 
Puysieux  —  Character  of  Pontchartrain  —  Why  he  Ruined 
the  French  Fleet — Madame  des  Ursins  at  Last  Resolves  to 
Return  to  Spain — Favours  Heaped  upon  Her — M.  de  Lauzun 
at  the  Army — His  bon  mot — Conduct  of  M.  de  Vendome— 
Disgrace  and  Character  of  the  Grand  Prieur. 

AT  the  beginning  of  October,  news  reached  the 
Court,  which  was  at  Fontainebleau,  that  M.  de 
Duras  was  at  the  point  of  death.  Upon  hearing  this, 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  Madame  de  Lauzun,  who 
were  both  related  to  M.  Duras,  wished  to  absent  them- 
selves from  the  Court  performances  that  were  to  take 
place  in  the  palace  that  evening.  They  expressed  this 
wish  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  who  approved  of  it, 
but  said  she  was  afraid  the  King  would  not  do  the  same. 
He  had  been  very  angry  lately  because  the  ladies  had 
neglected  to  go  full  dressed  to  the  Court  performances. 
A  few  words  he  had  spoken  made  everybody  take  good 
care  not  to  rouse  his  anger  on  this  point  again.  He 
expected  so  much  accordingly  from  everybody  who 
attended  the  Court,  that  Madame  de  Bourgogne  was 
afraid  he  would  not  consent  to  dispense  with  the  at- 
tendance of  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  Madame  de 
Lauzun  on  this  occasion.  They  compromised  the  mat- 

45  2 


46  Memoirs  of 

ter,  therefore,  by  dressing  themselves,  going  to  the 
room  where  the  performance  was  held,  and,  under  pre- 
text of  not  finding  places,  going  away;  Madame  de 
Bourgogne  agreeing  to  explain  their  absence  in  this 
way  to  the  King.  I  notice  this  very  insignificant  baga- 
telle to  show  how  the  King  thought  only  of  himself, 
and  how  much  he  wished  to  be  obeyed ;  and  that  that 
which  would  not  have  been  pardoned  to  the  nieces  of 
a  dying  man,  except  at  the  Court,  was  a  duty  there, 
and  one  which  it  needed  great  address  to  escape  from, 
without  seriously  infringing  the  etiquette  established. 

After  the  return  of  the  Court  from  Fontainebleau 
this  year,  Puysieux  came  back  from  Switzerland,  hav- 
ing been  sent  there  as  ambassador.  Puysieux  was  a 
little  fat  man,  very  agreeable,  pleasant,  and  witty,  one 
of  the  best  fellows  in  the  w'orld,  in  fact.  As  he  had 
much  wit,  and  thoroughly  knew  the  King,  he  bethought 
himself  of  making  the  best  of  his  position ;  and  as  his 
Majesty  testified  much  friendship  for  him  on  his  re- 
turn, and  declared  himself  satisfied  with  his  mission 
in  Switzerland,  Puysieux  asked  if  what  he  heard  was 
not  mere  compliment,  and  whether  he  could  count 
upon  it.  As  the  King  assured  him  that  he  might  do 
so,  Puysieux  assumed  a  brisk  air,  and  said  that  he 
was  not  so  sure  of  that,  and  that  he  was  not  pleased 
with  his  Majesty. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  replied  Puysieux ;  "  why,  because  al- 
though the  most  honest  man  in  your  realm,  you  have 
not  kept  to  a  promise  you  made  me  more  than  fifty 
years  ago." 

"  What  promise  ?  "  asked  the  King. 


Saint-Simon  47 

"  What  promise,  Sire?  "  said  Puysieux  ;  "  you  have 
a  good  memory,  you  cannot  have  forgotten  it.  Does 
not  your  Majesty  remember  that  one  day,  having  the 
honour  to  play  at  blindman's  buff  with  you  at  my 
grandmother's,  you  put  your  cordon  bleu  on  my  back, 
the  better  to  hide  yourself;  and  that  when,  after  the 
game,  I  restored  it  to  you,  you  promised  to  give  it  me 
when  you  became  master ;  you  have  long  been  so, 
thoroughly  master,  and  nevertheless  that  cordon  bleu 
is  still  to  come." 

The  King,  who  recollected  the  circumstance,  here 
burst  out  laughing,  and  told  Puysieux  he  was  in  the 
right,  and  that  a  chapter  should  be  held  on  the  first  day 
of  the  new  year  expressly  for  the  purpose  of  receiv- 
ing him  into  the  order.  And  so  in  fact  it  was,  and 
Puysieux  received  the  cordon  bleu  on  the  day  the 
King  had  named.  This  fact  is  not  important,  but  it  is 
amusing.  It  is  altogether  singular  in  connection  with 
a  prince  as  serious  and  as  imposing  as  Louis  XIV. ; 
and  it  is  one  of  those  little  Court  anecdotes  which  are 
curious. 

Here  is  another  more  important  fact,  the  con- 
sequences of  which  are  still  felt  by  the  State.  Pont- 
chartrain,  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Navy,  was  the 
plague  of  it,  as  of  all  those  who  were  under  his  cruel 
dependence.  He  was  a  man  who,  with  some  amount 
of  ability,  was  disagreeable  and  pedantic  to  an  excess  ; 
who  loved  evil  for  its  own  sake  ;  who  was  jealous  even 
of  his  father ;  who  was  a  cruel  tyrant  towards  his  wrife, 
a  woman  all  docility  and  goodness ;  who  was  in  one 
word  a  monster,  whom  the  King  kept  in  office  only 
because  he  feared  him.  An  admiral  was  the  abhor- 


48  Memoirs  of 

rence  of  Pontchartrain,  and  an  admiral  who  was  an 
illegitimate  son  of  the  King,  he  loathed.  There  was 
nothing,  therefore,  that  he  had  not  done  during  the 
war  to  thwart  the  Comte  de  Toulouse ;  he  laid  some 
obstacles  everywhere  in  his  path;  he  had  tried  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  command  of  the  fleet,  and  failing  this, 
had  done  everything  to  render  the  fleet  useless. 

These  were  bold  strokes  against  a  person  the  King 
so  much  loved,  but  Pontchartrain  knew  the  weak  side 
of  the  King ;  he  knew  how  to  balance  the  father  against 
the  master,  to  bring  forward  the  admiral  and  set  aside 
the  son.  In  this  manner  the  Secretary  of  State  was 
able  to  put  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  Comte  de  Tou- 
louse that  threw  him  almost  into  despair,  and  the  Count 
could  do  little  to  defend  himself.  It  was  a  well-known 
fact  at  sea  and  in  the  ports  where  the  ships  touched, 
and  it  angered  all  the  fleet.  Pontchartrain  accordingly 
was  abhorred  there,  while  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  by 
his  amiability  and  other  good  qualities,  was  adored. 
At  last,  the  annoyance  he  caused  became  so  unendur- 
able, that  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  at  the  end  of  his 
cruise  in  the  Mediterranean,  returned  to  Court  and  de- 
termined to  expose  the  doings  of  Pontchartrain  to  the 
King. 

The  very  day  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  this, 
and  just  before  he  intended  to  have  his  interview  with 
the  King,  Madame  Pontchartrain,  casting  aside  her 
natural  timidity  and  modesty,  came  to  him,  and  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  begged  him  not  to  bring  about  the 
ruin  of  her  husband.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse  was 
softened.  He  admitted  afterwards  that  he  could  not 
resist  the  sweetness  and  sorrow  of  Madame  de  Pont- 


Saint-Simon  49 

chartrain,  and  that  all  his  resolutions,  his  weapons,  fell 
from  his  hands  at  the  thought  of  the  sorrow  which 
the  poor  woman  would  undergo,  after  the  fall  of  her 
brutal  husband,  left  entirely  in  the  hands  of  such  a 
furious  Cyclops.  In  this  manner  Pontchartrain  was 
saved,  but  it  cost  dear  to  the  State.  The  fear  he  was 
in  of  succumbing-  under  the  glory  or  under  the  ven- 
geance of  an  admiral  who  was  son  of  the  King  deter- 
mined him  to  ruin  the  fleet  itself,  so  as  to  render  it  in- 
capable of  receiving  the  admiral  again.  He  determined 
to  do  this,  and  kept  to  his  word,  as  was  afterwards  only 
too  clearly  verified  by  the  facts.  The  Comte  de  Tou- 
louse saw  no  more  either  ports  or  vessels,  and  from 
that  time  only  very  feeble  squadrons  went  out,  and  even 
those  very  seldom.  Pontchartrain  had  the  impudence 
to  boast  of  this  before  my  face. 

When  I  last  spoke  of  Madame  des  Ursins,  I  de- 
scribed her  as  living  in  the  midst  of  the  Court,  flat- 
tered and  caressed  by  all,  and  on  the  highest  terms  of 
favour  with  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon.  She 
found  her  position,  indeed,  so  far  above  her  hopes,  that 
she  began  to  waver  in  her  intention  of  returning  to 
Spain.  The  age  and  the  health  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  tempted  her.  She  would  have  preferred  to  gov- 
ern here  rather  than  in  Spain.  Flattered  by  the  atten- 
tions paid  her,  she  thought  those  attentions,  or,  I  may 
say,  rather  those  servile  adorations,  would  continue 
for  ever,  and  that  in  time  she  might  arrive  at  the  high- 
est point  of  power.  The  Archbishop  of  Aix  and  her 
brother  divined  her  thoughts,  for  she  did  not  dare  to 
avow  them,  and  showed  her  in  the  clearest  way  that 
those  thoughts  were  calculated  to  lead  her  astray. 
VOL.  II.— 4 


50  Memoirs  of 

They  explained  to  her  that  the  only  interest  Madame 
de  Maintenon  had  in  favouring  her  was  on  account  of 
Spain.  Madame  des  Ursins  once  back  in  that  country, 
Madame  de  Maintenon  looked  forward  to  a  recom- 
mencement of  those  relations  which  had  formerly  ex- 
isted between  them,  by  which  the  government  of  Spain 
in  appearance,  if  not  in  reality,  passed  through  her 
hands.  They  therefore  advised  Madame  des  Ursins  on 
no  account  to  think  of  remaining  in  France,  at  the 
same  time  suggesting  that  it  would  not  be  amiss  to 
stop  there  long  enough  to  cause  some  inquietude  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  so  as  to  gain  as  much  ad- 
vantage as  possible  from  it. 

The  solidity  of  these  reasons  persuaded  Madame  des 
Ursins  to  follow  the  advice  given  her.  She  resolved 
to  depart,  but  not  until  after  a  delay  of  which  she  meant 
to  profit  to  the  utmost.  We  shall  soon  see  what  suc- 
cess attended  her  schemes.  The  terms  upon  which  I 
stood  with  her  enabled  me  to  have  knowledge  of  all 
the  sentiments  that  had  passed  through  her  mind : — 
her  extreme  desire,  upon  arriving  in  Paris,  to  return 
to  Spain ;  the  intoxication  which  seized  her  in  con- 
sequence of  the  treatment  she  received,  and  which 
made  her  balance  this  desire ;  and  her  final  resolution. 
It  was  not  until  afterwards,  however,  that  I  learnt  all 
the  details  I  have  just  related. 

It  was  not  long  before  Madame  de  Maintenon  began 
to  feel  impatient  at  the  long-delayed  departure  of  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins.  She  spoke  at  last  upon  the  subject, 
and  pressed  Madame  des  Ursins  to  set  out  for  Spain. 
This  was  just  what  the  other  wanted.  She  said  that  as 
she  had  been  driven  out  of  Spain  like  a  criminal,  she 


Saint-Simon  51 

must  go  back  with  honour,  if  Madame  de  Maintenon 
wished  her  to  gain  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  the 
Spaniards.  That  although  she  had  been  treated  by 
the  King  with  every  consideration  and  goodness,  many 
people  in  Spain  were,  and  would  be,  ignorant  of  it, 
and  that,  therefore,  her  return  to  favour  ought  to  be 
made  known  in  as  public  and  convincing  a  manner  as 
was  her  disgrace.  This  was  said  with  all  that  elo- 
quence and  persuasiveness  for  which  Madame  des 
Ursins  was  remarkable.  The  effect  of  it  exceeded  her 
hopes. 

The  favours  she  obtained  were  prodigious.  Twenty 
thousand  livres  by  way  of  annual  pension,  and  thirty 
thousand  for  her  journey.  One  of  her  brothers,  M.  de 
Noirmoutiers,  blind  since  the  age  of  eighteen  or  twenty, 
was  made  hereditary  duke ;  another,  the  Abbe  de  la 
Tremoille,  of  exceeding  bad  life,  and  much  despised 
in  Rome,  where  he  lived,  was  made  cardinal.  \Yhat  a 
success  was  this  !  How  many  obstacles  had  to  be  over- 
come in  order  to  attain  it !  Yet  this  was  what  Madame 
des  Ursins  obtained,  so  anxious  was  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  to  get  rid  of  her  and  to  send  her  to  reign  in 
Spain,  that  she  might  reign  there  herself.  Pleased  and 
loaded  with  favour  as  never  subject  was  before,  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins  set  out  towards  the  middle  of  July, 
and  was  nearly  a  month  on  the  road.  It  may  be  im- 
agined what  sort  of  a  reception  awaited  her  in  Spain. 
The  King  and  the  Queen  went  a  day's  journey  out  of 
Madrid  to  meet  her.  Here,  then,  we  see  again  at  the 
height  of  power  this  woman,  whose  fall  the  King  but 
a  short  time  since  had  so  ardently  desired,  and  whose 
separation  from  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain  he  had 


52  Memoirs  of 

applauded  himself  for  bringing  about  with  so  much 
tact.  What  a  change  in  a  few  months  ! 

The  war  continued  this  year,  but  without  bringing 
any  great  success  to  our  arms.  Yillars,  at  Circk,  out- 
manceuvred  Marlborough  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
done  credit  to  the  greatest  general.  Marlborough, 
compelled  to  change  the  plan  of  campaign  he  had  de- 
termined on,  returned  into  Flanders,  where  the  Alare- 
chal  de  Villeroy  was  stationed  with  his  forces.  Noth- 
ing of  importance  occurred  during  the  campaign,  and 
the  two  armies  went  into  winter  quarters  at  the  end 
of  October. 

I  cannot  quit  Flanders  without  relating  another  in- 
stance of  the  pleasant  malignity  of  AI.  de  Lauzun.  In 
marrying  a  daughter  of  the  Alarechal  de  Lorges,  he 
had  hoped,  as  I  have  already  said,  to  return  into  the 
confidence  of  the  King  by  means  of  the  Alarechal,  and 
so  be  again  entrusted  with  military  command.  Find- 
ing these  hopes  frustrated,  he  thought  of  another  means 
of  reinstating  himself  in  favour.  He  determined  to  go 
to  the  waters  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  not,  as  may  be  be- 
lieved, for  his  health,  but  in  order  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  the  important  foreigners  whom  he  thought  to  find 
there,  learn  some  of  the  enemy's  plans,  and  come  back 
with  an  account  of  them  to  the  King,  who  would,  no 
doubt,  reward  him  for  his  zeal.  But  he  was  deceived 
in  his  calculation.  Aix-la-Chapelle,  generally  so  full 
of  foreigners  of  rank,  was  this  year,  owing  to  the  war, 
almost  empty.  AI.  de  Lauzun  found,  therefore,  nobody 
of  consequence  from  whom  he  could  obtain  any  useful 
information.  Before  his  return,  he  visited  the  Alare- 
chal de  Villerov,  who  received  him  with  all  militarv 


Saint-Simon  53 

honours,  and  conducted  him  all  over  the  army,  point- 
ing out  to  him  the  enemy's  posts ;  for  the  two  armies 
were  then  quite  close  to  each  other.  His  extreme  anx- 
iety, however,  to  get  information,  and  the  multitude  of 
his  questions,  irritated  the  officers  who  were  ordered 
to  do  the  honours  to  him;  and,  in  going  about,  they 
actually,  at  their  own  risk,  exposed  him  often  to  be 
shot  or  taken.  They  did  not  know  that  his  courage 
was  extreme ;  and  were  quite  taken  aback  by  his  calm- 
ness, and  his  evident  readiness  to  push  on  even  farther 
than  they  chose  to  venture. 

On  returning  to  Court,  M.  de  Lauzun  was  of  course 
pressed  by  everybody  to  relate  all  he  knew  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  two  armies.  But  he  held  himself  aloof  from 
all  questioners,  and  would  not  answer.  On  the  day 
after  his  arrival  he  went  to  pay  his  court  to  Mon- 
seignetir,  who  did  not  like  him,  but  who  also  was  no 
friend  to  the  Marechal  de  Yilleroy.  Monseigneur  put 
many  questions  to  him  upon  the  situation  of  the  two 
armies,  and  upon  the  reasons  which  had  prevented 
them  from  engaging  each  other.  M.  de  Lauzun 
shirked  reply,  like  a  man  who  wished  to  be  pressed ; 
did  not  deny  that  he  had  well  inspected  the  position 
of  the  two  armies,  but  instead  of  answering  Mon- 
seigneur, dwelt  upon  the  beauty  of  our  troops,  their 
gaiety  at  finding  themselves  so  near  an  enemy,  and 
their  eagerness  to  fight.  Pushed  at  last  to  the  point 
at  which  he  wished  to  arrive,  "  I  will  tell  you,  Mon- 
seigneur," said  he,  "  since  you  absolutely  command 
me ;  I  scanned  most  minutely  the  front  of  the  two 
armies  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  and  all  the  ground 
between  them.  It  is  true  there  is  no  brook,  and  that  I 


54  Memoirs  of 

saw;  neither  are  there  any  ravines,  nor  hollow  roads 
ascending  or  descending ;  but  it  is  true  that  there  were 
other  hindrances  which  I  particularly  remarked." 

"  But  what  hindrance  could  there  be,"  said  Mon- 
seigneur,  "  since  there  was  nothing  between  the  two 
armies?  " 

M.  de  Lauzun  allowed  himself  to  be  pressed  upon 
this  point,  constantly  repeating  the  list  of  hindrances 
that  did  not  exist,  but  keeping  silent  upon  the  others. 
At  last,  driven  into  a  corner,  he  took  his  snuff-box 
from  his  pocket. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  to  Monseigneur,  "'  there  is  one 
thing  which  much  embarrasses  the  feet,  the  furze  that 
grows  upon  the  ground,  where  M.  le  Marechal  de  Ville- 
roy  is  encamped.  The  furze,  it  is  true,  is  not  mixed 
with  any  other  plant,  either  hard  or  thorny ;  but  it  is 
a  high  furze,  as  high,  as  high,  let  me  see,  what  shall  I 
say?  " — and  he  looked  all  around  to  find  some  object 
of  comparison — "  as  high,  I  assure  you,  as  this  snuff- 
box!" 

Monseigneur  burst  out  laughing  at  this  sally,  and 
all  the  company  followed  his  example,  in  the  midst 
of  which  M.  de  Lauzun  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the 
room.  His  joke  soon  spread  all  over  the  Court  and 
the  town,  and  in  the  evening  was  told  to  the  King. 
This  was  all  the  thanks  M.  de  Villeroy  obtained  from 
M.  de  Lauzun  for  the  honours  he  had  paid  him;  and 
this  was  M.  de  Lauzun's  consolation  for  his  ill-success 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

In  Italy  our  armies  were  not  more  successful  than 
elsewhere.  From  time  to  time,  M.  de  Vendome  at- 
tacked some  unimportant  post,  and,  having  carried  it, 


Saint-Simon  55 

despatched  couriers  to  the  King,  magnifying  the  im- 
portance of  the  exploit.  But  the  fact  was,  all  these 
successes  led  to  nothing.  On  one  occasion,  at  Cassano, 
M.  de  Yendome  was  so  vigorously  attacked  by  Prince 
Louis  of  Baden  that,  in  spite  of  his  contempt  and  his 
audacity,  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  When  danger 
was  most  imminent,  instead  of  remaining  at  his  post, 
he  retired  from  the  field  of  battle  to  a  distant  country- 
house,  and  began  to  consider  how  a  retreat  might  be 
managed.  The  Grand  Prieur,  his  brother,  was  in  com- 
mand under  him,  and  was  ordered  to  remain  upon  the 
field ;  but  he  was  more  intent  upon  saving  his  skin 
than  of  obeying  orders,  and  so,  at  the  very  outset  of  the 
fight,  ran  away  to  a  country-house  hard  by.  M.  de 
Yendome  strangely  enough  had  sat  clown  to  eat  at  the 
country-house  whither  he  had  retired,  and  was  in  the 
midst  of  his  meal  when  news  was  brought  him  that, 
owing  to  the  prodigies  performed  by  one  of  his  of- 
ficers, Le  Guerchois,  the  fortunes  of  the  day  had 
changed,  and  Prince  Louis  of  Baden  was  retiring.  M. 
Yendome  had  great  difficulty  to  believe  this,  but  or- 
dered his  horse,  mounted,  and,  pushing  on,  concluded 
the  combat  gloriously.  He  did  not  fail,  of  course,  to 
claim  all  the  honours  of  this  victory,  which  in  reality 
was  a  barren  one  ;  and  sent  word  of  his  triumph  to 
the  King.  He  dared  to  say  that  the  loss  of  the  enemy 
was  more  than  thirteen  thousand  ;  and  our  loss  less 
than  three  thousand — whereas,  the  loss  was  at  least 
equal.  This  exploit,  nevertheless,  resounded  at  the 
Court  and  through  the  town  a?  an  advantage  the  most 
complete  and  the  most  decisive,  and  due  entirely  to 
the  vigilance,  valour,  and  capacity  of  Vendome.  Not 


56  Memoirs  of 

a  word  was  said  of  his  country-house,  or  the  inter- 
rupted meal.  These  facts  were  only  known  after  the 
return  of  the  general  officers.  As  for  the  Grand  Prieur, 
his  poltroonery  had  been  so  public,  his  flight  so  dis- 
graceful— for  he  had  taken  troops  with  him  to  protect 
the  country-house  in  which  he  sought  shelter — that 
he  could  not  be  pardoned.  The  two  brothers  quar- 
relled upon  these  points,  and  in  the  end  the  Grand 
Prieur  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  command.  He  re- 
tired to  his  house  at  Clichy,  near  Paris ;  but,  tiring  of 
that  place,  he  went  to  Rome,  made  the  acquaintance 
there  of  the  Marquise  de  Richelieu,  a  wanderer  like 
himself,  and  passed  some  time  with  her  at  Genoa. 
Leaving  that  city,  he  went  to  Chalons-sur-Saone, 
which  had  been  fixed  upon  as  the  place  of  his  exile,  and 
there  gave  himself  up  to  the  debaucheries  in  which  he 
usually  lived.  From  this  time  until  the  Regency  we 
shall  see  nothing  more  of  him.  I  shall  only  add,  there- 
fore, that  he  never  went  sober  to  bed  during  thirty 
years,  but  was  always  carried  thither  dead  drunk :  was 
a  liar,  swindler,  and  thief ;  a  rogue  to  the  marrow  oi 
his  bones,  rotted  with  vile  diseases;  the  most  con- 
temptible and  yet  most  dangerous  fellow  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  Hunting  Adventure — Story  and  Catastrophe  of  Fargues — 
Death  and  Character  of  Ninon  de  1'Enclos — Odd  Advent- 
ure of  Courtenvaux — Spies  at  Court — New  Enlistment — 
Wretched  State  of  the  Country — Balls  at  Marly. 

TWO  very  different  persons  died  towards  the  latter 
part  of  this  year.  The  first  was  Lamoignon, 
Chief  President;  the  second,  Xinon,  known  by  the  name 
of  Mademoiselle  de  1'Enclos.  Of  Lamoignon  I  will  re- 
late a  single  anecdote,  curious  and  instructive,  which 
will  show  the  corruption  of  which  he  was  capable. 

One  day — I  am  speaking  of  a  time  many  years  pre- 
vious to  the  date  of  the  occurrences  just  related — one 
day  there  was  a  great  hunting  party  at  Saint  Germain. 
The  chase  was  pursued  so  long,  that  the  King  gave  up, 
and  returned  to  Saint  Germain.  A  number  of  cour- 
tiers, among  whom  was  M.  de  Lauzun,  who  related  this 
story  to  me,  continued  their  sport;  and  just  as  dark- 
ness was  coming  on,  discovered  that  they  had  lost  their 
way.  After  a  time,  they  espied  a  light,  by  which  they 
guided  their  steps,  and  at  length  reached  the  door  of 
a  kind  of  castle.  They  knocked,  they  called  aloud,  they 
named  themselves,  and  asked  for  hospitality.  It  was 
then  between  ten  and  eleven  at  night,  and  towards  the 
end  of  autumn.  The  door  was  opened  to  them.  The 

57  2 


58  Memoirs  of 

master  of  the  house  came  forth.  He  made  them  take 
their  boots  off,  and  warm  themselves;  he  put  their 
horses  into  his  stables;  and  at  the  same  time  had  a 
supper  prepared  for  his  guests,  who  stood  much  in 
need  of  it.  They  did  not  wait  long  for  the  meal;  yet 
when  served  it  proved  excellent;  the  wines  served  with 
it,  too,  were  of  several  kinds,  and  excellent  likewise:  as 
for  the  master  of  the  house,  he  was  so  polite  and  re- 
spectful, yet  without  being  ceremonious  or  eager,  that 
it  was  evident  he  had  frequented  the  best  company. 
The  courtiers  soon  learnt  that  his  name  was  Fargues, 
that  the  place  was  called  Courson,  and  that  he  had 
lived  there  in  retirement  several  years.  After  having 
supped,  Fargues  showed  each  of  them  into  a  separate 
bedroom,  where  they  were  waited  upon  by  his  valets 
with  every  proper  attention.  In  the  morning,  as  soon 
as  the  courtiers  had  dressed  themselves,  they  found  an 
excellent  breakfast  awaiting  them;  and  upon  leaving 
the  table  they  saw  their  horses  ready  for  them,  and  as 
thoroughly  attended  to  as  they  had  been  themselves. 
Charmed  with  the  politeness  and  with  the  manners  of 
Fargues,  and  touched  by  his  hospitable  reception  of 
them,  they  made  him  many  offers  of  service,  and  made 
their  way  back  to  Saint  Germain.  Their  non-appear- 
ance on  the  previous  night  "had  been  the  common  talk, 
their  return  and  the  adventure  they  had  met  with  was 
no  less  so. 

These  gentlemen  were  then  the  very  flower  of  the 
Court,  and  all  of  them  very  intimate  with  the  King. 
They  related  to  him,  therefore,  their  story,  the  manner 
of  their  reception,  and  highly  praised  the  master  of  the 
house  and  his  good  cheer.  The  King  asked  his  name, 


Saint-Simon  59 

and,  as  soon  as  he  heard  it,  exclaimed,  "  What,  Far- 
gues! is  he  so  near  here,  then?"  The  courtiers  re- 
doubled their  praises,  and  the  King  said  no  more;  but 
soon  after  went  to  the  Queen-mother,  and  told  her  what 
had  happened. 

Fargues,  indeed,  was  no  stranger,  either  to  her  or  to 
the  King.  He  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the 
movements  of  Paris  against  the  Court  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin.  If  he  had  not  been  hanged,  it  was  because 
he  was  well  supported  by  his  party,  who  had  him  in- 
cluded in  the  amnesty  granted  to  those  who  had  been 
engaged  in  these  troubles.  Fearing,  however,  that  the 
hatred  of  his  enemies  might  place  his  life  in  danger  if 
he  remained  in  Paris,  he  retired  from  the  capital  to  this 
country-house  which  has  just  been  mentioned,  where 
he  continued  to  live  in  strict  privacy,  even  when  the 
death  of  Cardinal  Mazarin  seemed  to  render  such  se- 
clusion no  longer  necessary. 

The  King  and  the  Queen-mother,  who  had  pardoned 
Fargues  in  spite  of  themselves,  were  much  annoyed  at 
finding  that  he  was  living  in  opulence  and  tranquillity 
so  near  the  Court;  thought  him  extremely  bold  to  do 
so;  and  determined  to  punish  him  for  this  and  for  his 
former  insolence.  They  directed  Lamoignon,  there- 
fore, to  find  out  something  in  the  past  life  of  Fargues 
for  which  punishment  might  be  awarded;  and  La- 
moignon, eager  to  please,  and  make  a  profit  out  of  his 
eagerness,  was  not  long  in  satisfying  them.  He  made 
researches,  and  found  means  to  complicate  Fargues  in  a 
murder  that  had  been  committed  in  Paris  at  the  height 
of  the  troubles.  Officers  were  accordingly  sent  to 
Courson,  and  its  owner  was  arrested. 


60  Memoirs  of 

Fargues  was.  much  astonished  when  he  learnt  of  what 
he  was  accused.  He  exculpated  himself,  nevertheless, 
completely;  alleging,  moreover,  that  as  the  murder  of 
which  he  was  accused  had  been  committed  during  the 
troubles,  the  amnesty  in  which  he  was  included  effaced 
all  memory  of  the  deed,  according  to  law  and  usage, 
which  had  never  been  contested  until  this  occasion. 
The  courtiers  who  had  been  so  well  treated  by  the  un- 
happy man,  did  everything  they  could  with  the  judges 
and  the  King  to  obtain  the  release  of  the  accused.  It 
was  all  in  vain.  Fargues  was  decapitated  at  once,  and 
all  his  wealth  was  given  by  way  of  recompense  to  the 
Chief-President  Lamoignon,  who  had  no  scruple  thus 
to  enrich  himself  with  the  blood  of  the  innocent.* 

The  other  person  who  died  at  the  same  time  was,  as 
I  have  said,  Ninon,  the  famous  courtesan,  known,  since 
age  had  compelled  her  to  quit  that  trade,  as  Mademoi- 
selle de  1'Enclos.  She  was  a  new  example  of  the  tri- 
umph of  vice  carried  on  cleverly  and  repaired  by  some 
virtue.  The  stir  that  she  made,  and  still  more  the  dis- 
order that  she  caused  among  the  highest  and  most  brill- 
iant youth,  overcame  the  extreme  indulgence  that,  not 
without  cause,  the  Queen-mother  entertained  for  per- 
sons whose  conduct  was  gallant,  and  more  than  gal- 
lant, and  made  her  send  her  an  order  to  retire  into  a 
convent.  But  Ninon,  observing  that  no  especial  con- 
vent was  named,  said,  with  a  great  courtesy,  to  the  offi- 
cer who  brought  the  order,  that,  as  the  option  was  left 

*  It  is  necessary  to  observe  that  some  of  the  details  of  this  story, 
especially  those  that  relate  to  the  infamy  of  Lamoignon,  have  been  de- 
nied ;  Fargues,  too,  was  hanged,  not  decapitated  ;  but  the  main  fact,  the 
initiative  of  the  King  in  this  murder  (of  the  worst  description,  being 
perpetrated  under  the  forms  of  law)  is  denied  by  no  one. 


Saint-Simon  61 

to  her,  she  would  choose  "  the  convent  of  the  Corde- 
liers at  Paris;  "  which  impudent  joke  so  diverted  the 
Queen  that  she  left  her  alone  for  the  future.  Ninon 
never  had  but  one  lover  at  a  time — but  her  admirers 
were  numberless — so  that  when  wearied  of  one  incum- 
bent she  told  him  so  frankly,  and  took  another.  The 
abandoned  one  might  groan  and  complain;  her  decree 
was  without  appeal;  and  this  creature  had  acquired 
such  an  influence,  that  the  deserted  lovers  never  dared 
to  revenge  on  the  favoured  one,  and  were  too  happy  to 
remain  on  the  footing  of  friend  of  the  house.  She 
sometimes  kept  faithful  to  one,  when  he  pleased  her 
very  much,  during  an  entire  campaign. 

Ninon  had  illustrious  friends  of  all  sorts,  and  had  so 
much  wit  that  she  preserved  them  all  and  kept  them  on 
good  terms  with  each  other;  or,  at  least,  no  quarrels 
ever  came  to  light.  There  was  an  external  respect  and 
decency  about  everything  that  passed  in  her  house, 
such  as  princesses  of  the  highest  rank  have  rarely  been 
able  to  preserve  in  their  intrigues. 

In  this  way  she  had  among  her  friends  a  selection  of 
the  best  members  of  the  Court;  so  that  it  became  the 
fashion  to  be  received  by  her,  and  it  was  useful  to  be  so, 
on  account  of  the  connections  that  were  thus  formed. 
There  was  never  any  gambling  there,  nor  loud  laugh- 
ing, nor  disputes,  nor  talk  about  religion  or  politics; 
but  much  and  elegant  wit,  ancient  and  modern  stories, 
news  of  gallantries,  yet  without  scandal.  All  was  deli- 
cate, light,  measured;  and  she  herself  maintained  the 
conversation  by  her  wit  and  her  great  knowledge  of 
facts.  The  respect  which,  strange  to  say,  she  had  ac- 
quired, and  the  number  and  distinction  of  her  friends 


62  Memoirs  of 

and  acquaintances,  continued  when  her  charms  ceased 
to  attract;  and  when  propriety  and  fashion  compelled 
her  to  use  only  intellectual  baits.  She  knew  all  the  in- 
trigues of  the  old  and  the  new  Court,  serious  and  other- 
wise; her  conversation  was  charming;  she  was  disinter- 
ested, faithful,  secret,  safe  to  the  last  degree;  and, 
setting  aside  her  frailty,  virtuous  and  full  of  probity. 
She  frequently  succoured  her  friends  with  money  and 
influence;  constantly  did  them  the  most  important  ser- 
vices, and  very  faithfully  kept  the  secrets  or  the  money 
deposits  that  were  confided  to  her. 

She  had  been  intimate  with  Madame  de  Maintenon 
during  the  whole  of  her  residence  at  Paris;  but  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  although  not  daring  to  disavow 
this  friendship,  did  not  like  to  hear  her  spoken  about. 
She  wrote  to  Ninon  with  amity  from  time  to  time,  even 
until  her  death;  and  Ninon  in  like  manner,  \vhen  she 
wanted  to  serve  any  friend  in  whom  she  took  great  in- 
terest, wrote  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  did  her 
what  service  she  required  efficaciously  and  with  prompt- 
ness. But  since  Madame  de  Maintenon  came  to  power, 
they  had  only  seen  each  other  two  or  three  times,  and 
then  in  secret. 

Ninon  was  remarkable  for  her  repartees.  One  that 
she  made  to  the  last  Marechal  de  Choiseul  is  worth  re- 
peating. The  Marechal  was  virtue  itself,  but  not  fond 
of  company  or  blessed  with  much  wit.  One  day,  after 
a  long  visit  he  had  paid  her,  Ninon  gaped,  looked  at 
the  Marechal,  and  cried: — 

"  Oh,  my  lord!  how  many  virtues  you  make  me  de- 
test!" 

A  line  from  I  know  not  what  play.     The  laughter  at 


Saint-Simon  63 

this  may  be  imagined.  L'Enclos  lived  long  beyond 
her  eightieth  year,  always  healthy,  visited,  respected. 
She  gave  her  last  years  to  God,  and  her  death  was  the 
news  of  the  day.  The  singularity  of  this  personage  has 
made  me  extend  my  observations  upon  her. 

A  short  time  after  the  death  of  [Mademoiselle  de  1'En- 
clos,  a  terrible  adventure  happened  to  Courtenvaux, 
eldest  son  of  M.  de  Louvois.  Courtenvaux  was  com- 
mander of  the  Cent-Suisses,  fond  of  obscure  debauches; 
with  a  ridiculous  voice,  miserly,  quarrelsome,  though 
modest  and  respectful;  and  in  fine  a  very  stupid  fel- 
low. The  King,  more  eager  to  know  all  that  was  pass- 
ing than  most  people  believed,  although  they  gave  him 
credit  for  not  a  little  curiosity  in  this  respect,  had  au- 
thorised Bontems  to  engage  a  number  of  Swiss  in  ad- 
dition to  those  posted  at  the  doors,  and  in  the  parks 
and  gardens.  These  attendants  had  orders  to  stroll 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  along  the  corridors,  the 
passages,  the  staircases,  even  into  the  private  places, 
and,  when  it  was  fine,  in  the  court-yards  and  gardens; 
and  in  secret  to  watch  people,  to  follow  them,  to  notice 
where  they  went,  to  notice  who  was  there,  to  listen  to 
all  the  conversation  they  could  hear,  and  to  make  re- 
ports of  their  discoveries.  This  was  assiduously  done 
at  Versailles,  at  Marly,  at  Trianon,  at  Fontainebleau, 
and  in  all  the  places  where  the  King  was.  These  new 
attendants  vexed  Courtenvaux  considerably,  for  over 
such  new-comers  he  had  no  sort  of  authority.  This 
season,  at  Fontainebleau.  a  room,  which  had  formerly 
been  occupied  by  a  party  of  the  Cent-Suisses  and  of 
the  body-guard,  was  given  up  entirely  to  the  new  corps. 
The  room  was  in  a  public  passage  of  communication 


64  Memoirs  of 

indispensable  to  all  in  the  chateau,  and  in  consequence, 
excellently  well  adapted  for  watching  those  who  passed 
through  it.  Courtenvaux  more  than  ever  vexed  by 
this  new  arrangement,  regarded  it  as  a  fresh  encroach- 
ment upon  his  authority,  and  flew  into  a  violent  rage 
with  the  new-comers,  and  railed  at  them  in  good  set 
terms.  They  allowed  him  to  fume  as  he  would;  they 
had  their  orders,  and  were  too  wise  to  be  disturbed  by 
his  rage.  The  King,  who  heard  of  all  this,  sent  at  once 
for  Courtenvaux.  As  soon  as  he  appeared  in  the  cabi- 
net, the  King  called  to  him  from  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  without  giving  him  time  to  approach,  and  in 
a  rage  so  terrible,  and  for  him  so  novel,  that  not  only 
Courtenvaux,  but  Princes,  Princesses,  and  everybody 
in  the  chamber,  trembled.  Menaces  that  his  post 
should  be  taken  away  from  him,  terms  the  most  severe 
and  the  most  unusual,  rained  upon  Courtenvaux,  who, 
fainting  with  fright,  and  ready  to  sink  under  the 
ground,  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  means  to  prefer  a 
word.  The  reprimand  finished  by  the  King  saying, 
"  Get  out/'  He  had  scarcely  the  strength  to  obey. 

The  cause  of  this  strange  scene  was  that  Courten- 
vaux, by  the  fuss  he  had  made,  had  drawn  the  atten- 
tion of  the  whole  Court  to  the  change  effected  by  the 
King,  and  that,  when  once  seen,  its  object  was  clear 
to  all  eyes.  The  King,  who  hid  his  spy  system  with 
the  greatest  care,  had  counted  upon  this  change  pass- 
ing unperceived,  and  was  beside  himself  with  anger 
when  he  found  it  made  apparent  to  everybody  by  Cour- 
tenvaux's  noise.  He  never  regained  the  King's  favour 
during  the  rest  of  his  life;  and  but  for  his  family  he 
would  certainly  have  been  driven  away,  and  his  office 
taken  from  him. 


Saint-Simon  65 

Let  me  speak  now  of  something  of  more  moment. 
The  war,  as  I  have  said,  still  continued,  but  without 
bringing  us  any  advantages.  On  the  contrary,  our 
losses  in  Germany  and  Italy  by  sickness,  rather  than 
by  the  sword,  were  so  great  that  it  was  resolved  to  aug- 
ment each  company  by  five  men;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
twenty-five  thousand  militia  were  raised,  thus  causing 
great  ruin  and  great  desolation  in  the  provinces.  The 
King  was  rocked  into  the  belief  that  the  people  were 
all  anxious  to  enter  this  militia,  and,  from  time  to  time, 
at  Marly,  specimens  of  those  enlisted  were  shown  to 
him,  and  their  joy  and  eagerness  to  serve  made  much  of. 
I  have  heard  this  often ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  I  knew 
from  my  own  tenantry,  and  from  everything  that  was 
said,  that  the  raising  of  this  militia  carried  despair 
everywhere,  and  that  many  people  mutilated  themselves 
in  order  to  exempt  themselves  from  serving.  Nobody 
at  the  Court  was  ignorant  of  this.  People  lowered 
their  eyes  when  they  saw  the  deceit  practised  upon  the 
King,  and  the  credulity  he  displayed,  and  afterwards 
whispered  one  to  another  what  they  thought  of  flattery 
so  ruinous.  Fresh  regiments,  too,  were  raised  at  this 
time,  and  a  crowd  of  new  colonels  and  staffs  created, 
instead  of  giving  a  new  battalion  or  a  squadron  addi- 
tional to  regiments  already  in  existence.  I  saw  quite 
plainly  towards  what  rock  we  were  drifting.  We  had 
met  losses  at  Hochstedt,  Gibraltar,  and  Barcelona;  Cata- 
lonia and  the  neighbouring  countries  were  in  revolt; 
Italy  yielding  us  nothing  but  miserable  successes;  Spain 
exhausted;  France,  failing  in  men  and  money,  and  with 
incapable  generals,  protected  by  the  Court  against  their 
faults.  I  saw  all  these  things  so  plainly  that  I  could 
VOL.  II.— 5 


66  Memoirs  of 

not  avoid  making  reflections,  or  reporting  them  to  my 
friends  in  office.  I  thought  that  it  was  time  to  finish 
the  war  before  we  sank  still  lower,  and  that  it  might  be 
finished  by  giving  to  the  Archduke  what  we  could  not 
defend,  and  making  a  division  of  the  rest.  My  plan 
was  to  leave  Philip  V.  possession  of  all  Italy,  except 
those  parts  which  belonged  to  the  Grand  Duke,  the 
republics  of  Venice  and  Genoa,  and  the  ecclesiastical 
states  of  Naples  and  Sicily;  our  King  to  have  Lorraine 
and  some  other  slight  additions  of  territory;  and  to 
place  elsewhere  the  Dukes  of  Savoy,  of  Lorraine,  of 
Parma,  and  of  Modena.  I  related  this  plan  to  the 
Chancellor  and  to  Chamillart,  amongst  others.  The 
contrast  between  their  replies  was  striking.  The  Chan- 
cellor, after  having  listened  to  me  very  attentively,  said, 
if  my  plan  were  adopted,  he  would  most  willingly  kiss 
my  toe  for  joy.  Chamillart,  with  gravity  replied,  that 
the  King  \vould  not  give  up  a  single  mill  of  all  the 
Spanish  succession.  Then  I  felt  the  blindness  which 
had  fallen  upon  us,  and  how  much  the  results  of  it  were 
to  be  dreaded. 

Nevertheless,  the  King,  as  if  to  mock  at  misfortune 
and  to  show  his  enemies  the  little  uneasiness  he  felt,  de- 
termined, at  the  commencement  of  the  new  year,  1706, 
that  the  Court  should  be  gayer  than  ever.  He  an- 
nounced that  there  would  be  balls  at  Marly  every  time 
he  was  there  this  winter,  and  he  named  those  who  were 
to  dance  there;  and  said  he  should  be  very  glad  to  see 
balls  given  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne  at  Versailles. 
Accordingly,  many  took  place  there,  and  also  at  Marly, 
and  from  time  to  time  there  were  masquerades.  One 
day,  the  King  wished  that  everybody,  even  the  most 


Saint-Simon  67 

aged,  who  were  at  Marly,  should  go  to  the  ball 
masked;  and,  to  avoid  all  distinction,  he  went  there 
himself  with  a  gauze  robe  above  his  habit;  but  such 
a  slight  disguise  was  for  himself  alone;  everybody  else 
was  completely  disguised.  M.  and  Madame  de  Beau- 
villiers  were  there  perfectly  disguised.  When  I  say 
they  were  there,  those  who  knew  the  Court  will  admit 
that  I  have  said  more  than  enough.  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  them,  and  of  quietly  laughing  with  them. 
At  all  these  balls  the  King  made  people  dance  who  had 
long  since  passed  the  age  for  doing  so.  As  for  the 
Comte  de  Brionne  and  the  Chevalier  de  Sully,  their 
dancing  was  so  perfect  that  there  was  no  age  for  them. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Arrival  of  Vendome  at  Court — Character  of  that  Disgusting 
Personage — Rise  of  Cardinal  Alberoni — Vendome's  Recep- 
tion at  Marly — His  Unheard-of  Triumph — His  High  Flight 
— Returns  to  Italy — Battle  of  Calcinato — Condition  of  the 
Army — Pique  of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy — Battle  of  Ramil- 
lies — Its  Consequences. 

IN  the  midst  of  all  this  gaiety,  that  is  to  say  on  the 
1 2th  of  February,  1706,  one  of  our  generals,  of 
whom  I  have  often  spoken,  I  mean  M.  de  Vendome, 
arrived  at  Marly.  He  had  not  quitted  Italy  since  suc- 
ceeding to  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  after  the  affair  of  Cre- 
mona. His  battles,  such  as  they  were,  the  places  he 
had  taken,  the  authority  he  had  assumed,  the  reputa- 
tion he  had  usurped,  his  incomprehensible  successes 
with  the  King,  the  certainty  of  the  support  he  leaned 
on, — all  this  inspired  him  with  the  desire  to  come  and 
enjoy  at  Court  a  situation  so  brilliant,  and  which  so  far 
surpassed  what  he  had  a  right  to  expect.  But  before 
speaking  of  the  reception  which  was  given  him,  and  of 
the  incredible  ascendancy  he  took,  let  me  paint  him 
from  the  life  a  little  more  completely  than  I  have  yet 
done.* 

•It  is  impossible  to  give  intact  the  portrait  sketched  by  Saint-Simon 
of  this  disgusting  personage.  I  have  ventured  as  far  as  I  could,  in  order 
to  show  what  sort  of  person  was  required  to  earn  all  the  endearments  of  a 
Creat  King. 

6-5 


Saint-Simon  69 

Vendome  was  of  ordinary  height,  rather  stout,  but 
vigorous  and  active:  with  a  very  noble  countenance 
and  lofty  mien.  There  was  much  natural  grace  in  his 
carriage  and  words;  he  had  a  good  deal  of  innate  wit, 
which  he  had  not  cultivated,  and  spoke  easily,  support- 
ed by  a  natural  boldness,  which  afterwards  turned  to 
the  wildest  audacity;  he  knew  the  world  and  the  Court; 
was  above  all  things  an  admirable  courtier;  was  polite 
when  necessary,  but  insolent  when  he  dared — familiar 
with  common  people — in  reality,  full  of  the  most  rav- 
enous pride.  As  his  rank  rose  and  his  favour  increased, 
his  obstinacy,  and  pig-headedness  increased  too,  so  that 
at  last  he  would  listen  to  no  advice  whatever,  and  was 
inaccessible  to  all,  except  a  small  number  of  familiars 
and  valets.  No  one  better  than  he  knew  the  subservi- 
ency of  the  French  character,  or  took  more  advantage 
of  it.  Little  by  little  he  accustomed  his  subalterns,  and 
then  from  one  to  the  other  all  his  army,  to  call  him 
nothing  but  "  Monseigneur,"  and  "  Your  Highness." 
In  time  the  gangrene  spread,  and  even  lieutenant-gen- 
erals and  the  most  distinguished  people  did  not  dare  to 
address  him  in  any  other  manner. 

The  most  wonderful  thing  to  whoever  knew  the  King 
— so  gallant  to  the  ladies  during  a  long  part  of  his  life, 
so  devout  the  other,  and  often  importunate  to  make 
others  do  as  he  did — was  that  the  said  King  had  always 
a  singular  horror  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Cities  of  the 
Plain;  and  yet  M.  de  Vendome,  though  most  odiously 
stained  with  that  vice — so  publicly  that  he  treated  it  as 
an  ordinary  gallantry — never  found  his  favour  dimin- 
ish on  that  account.  The  Court,  Anet,  the  army,  knew 
of  these  abominations.  Valets  and  subaltern  officers 


70  Memoirs  of 

soon  found  the  way  to  promotion.  I  have  already 
mentioned  how  publicly  he  placed  himself  in  the  doc- 
tor's hands,  and  how  basely  the  Court  acted,  imitating 
the  King,  who  would  never  have  pardoned  a  legitimate 
prince  what  he  indulged  so  strangely  in  Vendome. 

The  idleness  of  M.  de  Vendome  was  equally  matter 
of  notoriety.  More  than  once  he  ran  the  risk  of  being 
taken  prisoner  from  mere  indolence.  He  rarely  him- 
self saw  anything  at  the  army,  trusting  to  his  familiars 
when  ready  to  trust  anybody.  The  way  he  employed 
his  day  prevented  any  real  attention  to  business.  He 
was  filthy  in  the  extreme,  and  proud  of  it.  Fools  called 
it  simplicity.  His  bed  was  always  full  of  dogs  and 
bitches,  who  littered  at  his  side,  the  pups  rolling  in  the 
clothes.  He  himself  was  under  constraint  in  nothing. 
One  of  his  theses  was,  that  everybody  resembled  him, 
but  was  not  honest  enough  to  confess  it  as  he  was. 
He  mentioned  this  once  to  the  Princesse  de  Conti — 
the  cleanest  person  in  the  world,  and  the  most  delicate 
in  her  cleanliness. 

He  rose  rather  late  when  at  the  army.  *  *  *  * 
In  this  situation  he  wrote  his  letters,  and  gave  his  morn- 
ing orders.  Whoever  had  business  with  him,  general 
officers  and  distinguished  persons,  could  speak  to  him 
then.  He  had  accustomed  the  army  to  this  infamy. 
At  the  same  time  he  gobbled  his  breakfast;  and  whilst 
he  ate,  listened,  or  gave  orders,  many  spectators  always 
standing  round  ....  (I  must  be  excused  these 
disgraceful  details,  in  order  better  to  make  him  known). 
.  .  .  On  shaving  days  he  used  the  same  vessel  to 
lather  his  chin  in.  This,  according  to  him,  was  a  sim- 
plicity of  manner  worthy  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and 


Saint-Simon  71 

which  condemned  the  splendour  and  superfluity  of  the 
others.  When  all  was  over,  he  dressed;  then  played 
high  at  piquet  or  hombrc ;  or  rode  out,  if  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary.  All  was  now  over  for  the  day.  He 
supped  copiously  with  his  familiars:  was  a  great  eater, 
of  wonderful  gluttony;  a  connoisseur  in  no  dish,  liked 
fish  much,  but  the  stale  and  stinking  better  than  the 
good.  The  meal  prolonged  itself  in  theses  and  dis- 
putes, and  above  all  in  praise  and  flattery. 

He  would  never  have  forgiven  the  slightest  blame 
from  any  one.  He  wanted  to  pass  for  the  first  captain 
of  his  age,  and  spoke  with  indecent  contempt  of  Prince 
Eugene  and  all  the  others.  The  faintest  contradiction 
would  have  been  a  crime.  The  soldier  and  the  subal- 
tern adored  him  for  his  familiarity  with  them,  and  the 
licence  he  allowed  in  order  to  gain  their  hearts;  for  all 
which  he  made  up  by  excessive  haughtiness  to\vards 
whoever  was  elevated  by  rank  or  birth. 

On  one  occasion  the  Duke  of  Parma  sent  the  bishop 
of  that  place  to  negotiate  some  affair  with  him;  but  M. 
de  Yendome  took  such  disgusting  liberties  in  his  pres- 
ence, that  the  ecclesiastic,  though  without  saying  a 
word,  returned  to  Parma,  and  declared  to  his  master 
that  never  would  he  undertake  such  an  embassy  again. 
In  his  place  another  envoy  was  sent,  the  famous  Al- 
beroni.  He  was  the  son  of  a  gardener,  who  became 
an  Abbe  in  order  to  get  on.  He  was  full  of  buffoon- 
ery; and  pleased  M.  de  Parma  as  might  a  valet  who 
amused  him,  but  he  soon  showed  talent  and  capacity 
for  affairs.  The  Duke  thought  that  the  night-chair  of 
M.  de  Vendome  required  no  other  ambassador  than 
Alberoni,  who  was  accordingly  sent  to  conclude  what 


72  Memoirs  of 

the  bishop  had  left  undone.  The  Abbe  determined  to 
please,  and  was  not  proud.  M.  de  Vendome  exhibited 
himself  as  before;  and  Alberoni,  by  an  infamous  act  of 
personal  adoration,  gained  his  heart.  He  was  thence- 
forth much  with  him,  made  cheese-soup  and  other  odd 
messes  for  him;  and  finally  worked  his  way.  It  is  true 
he  was  cudgelled  by  some  one  he  had  offended,  for  a 
thousand  paces,  in  sight  of  the  whole  army,  but  this 
did  not  prevent  his  advancement.  Vendome  liked  such 
an  unscrupulous  flatterer;  and  yet  as  we  have  seen,  he 
was  not  in  want  of  praise.  The  extraordinary  favour 
shown  him  by  the  King — the  credulity  with  which  his 
accounts  of  victories  were  received — showed  to  every 
one  in  what  direction  their  laudation  was  to  be  sent. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  the  King  and  the  whole 
Court  hastened  to  caress  and  flatter  from  the  first  mo- 
ment of  his  arrival  amongst  us.  There  was  a  terrible 
hubbub:  boys,  porters,  and  valets  rallied  round  his  post- 
chaise  when  he  reached  Marly.  Scarcely  had  he  as- 
cended into  his  chamber,  than  everybody,  princes,  bas- 
tards, and  all  the  rest,  ran  after  him.  The  ministers 
followed :  so  that  in  a  short  time  nobody  was  left  in  the 
salon  but  the  ladies.  M.  de  Beauvilliers  was  at  Vau- 
cresson.  As  for  me,  I  remained  spectator,  and  did  not 
go  and  adore  this  idol. 

In  a  few  minutes  Yendome  was  sent  for  by  the  King 
and  Monseigneur.  As  soon  as  he  could  dress  himself, 
surrounded  as  he  was  by  such  a  crowd,  he  went  to  the 
salon,  carried  by  it  rather  than  environed.  Mon- 
seigneur stopped  the  music  that  was  playing,  in  order 
to  embrace  him.  The  King  left  the  cabinet  where  he 
was  at  work,  and  came  out  to  meet  him,  embracing 


Saint-Simon  73 

him  several  times.  Chamillart  on  the  morrow  gave 
a  fete  in  his  honour  at  L'Etang,  which  lasted  two  days. 
Following  his  example,  Pontchartrain,  Torcy,  and  the 
most  distinguished  lords  of  the  Court,  did  the  same. 
People  begged  and  entreated  to  give  him  fetes;  people 
begged  and  entreated  to  be  invited  to  them.  Never 
was  triumph  equal  to  his;  each  step  he  took  procured 
him  a  new  one.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  every- 
body disappeared  before  him;  Princes  of  the  blood, 
ministers,  the  grandest  seigneurs,  all  appeared  only  to 
show  how  high  he  was  above  them;  even  the  King 
seemed  only  to  remain  King  to  elevate  him  more. 

The  people  joined  in  this  enthusiasm,  both  in  Ver- 
sailles and  at  Paris,  where  he  went  under  pretence  of 
going  to  the  opera.  As  he  passed  along  the  streets 
crowds  collected  to  cheer  him ;  they  billed  him  at  the 
doors,  and  every  seat  was  taken  in  advance;  people 
pushed  and  squeezed  everywhere,  and  the  price  of  ad- 
mission was  doubled,  as  on  the  nights  of  first  perform- 
ances. Yendome,  who  received  all  these  homages  with 
extreme  ease,  was  yet  internally  surprised  by  a  folly  so 
universal.  He  feared  that  all  this  heat  would  not  last 
out  even  the  short  stay  he  intended  to  make.  To  keep 
himself  more  in  reserve,  he  asked  and  obtained  per- 
mission to  go  to  Anet,  in  the  intervals  between  the  jour- 
neys to  Marly.  All  the  Court,  however,  followed  him 
there,  and  the  King  was  pleased  rather  than  otherwise, 
at  seeing  Versailles  half  deserted  for  Anet,  actually  ask- 
ing some  if  they  had  been,  others,  when  they  intended 
to  go. 

It  was  evident  that  every  one  had  resolved  to  raise 
M.  de  Yendome  to  the  rank  of  a  hero.  He  determined 


74  Memoirs  of 

to  profit  by  the  resolution.  If  they  made  him  Mars, 
why  should  he  not  act  as  such?  He  claimed  to  be  ap- 
pointed commander  of  the  Marechals  of  France,  and 
although  the  King  refused  him  this  favour,  he  accorded 
him  one  which  was  but  the  stepping-stone  to  it.  M.  de 
Vendome  went  away  towards  the  middle  of  March  to 
command  the  army  in  Italy,  with  a  letter  signed  by  the 
King  himself,  promising  him  that  if  a  Marechal  of 
France  were  sent  to  Italy,  that  Marechal  was  to  take 
commands  from  him.  M.  de  Vendome  was  content, 
and  determined  to  obtain  all  he  asked  on  a  future  day. 
The  disposition  of  the  armies  had  been  arranged  just 
before.  Tesse,  for  Catalonia  and  Spain;  Berwick,  for 
the  frontier  of  Portugal;  Marechal  Villars,  for  Alsace; 
Marsin,  for  the  Moselle;  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  for 
Flanders ;  and  M.  de  Vendome,  as  I  have  said,  for  Italy. 

Now  that  I  am  speaking  of  the  armies,  let  me  give 
here  an  account  of  all  our  military  operations  this  year, 
so  as  to  complete  that  subject  at  once. 

M.  de  Vendome  commenced  his  Italian  campaign  by 
a  victory.  He  attacked  the  troops  of  Prince  Eugene 
upon  the  heights  of  Calcinate,  drove  them  before  him, 
killed  three  thousand  men,  took  twenty  standards,  ten 
pieces  of  cannon,  and  eight  thousand  prisoners.  It  was 
a  rout  rather  than  a  combat.  The  enemy  was  much 
inferior  in  force  to  us,  and  was  without  its  general, 
Prince  Eugene,  he  not  having  returned  to  open  the 
campaign.  He  came  back,  however,  the  day  after  this 
engagement,  soon  re-established  order  among  his 
troops,  and  M.  de  Vendome  from  that  time,  far  from 
being  able  to  recommence  the  attack,  was  obliged  to 
keep  strictly  on  the  defensive  while  he  remained  in 


Saint-Simon  75 

Italy.     He  did  not  fail  to  make  the  most  of  his  victory, 
which,  however,  to  say  the  truth,  led  to  nothing. 

Our  armies  just  now  were,  it  must  be  admitted,  in 
by  no  means  a  good  condition.  The  generals  owed 
their  promotion  to  favour  and  fantasy.  The  King 
thought  he  gave  them  capacity  when  he  gave  them 
their  patents.  Under  M.  de  Turenne  the  army  had 
afforded,  as  in  a  school,  opportunities  for  young  offi- 
cers to  learn  the  art  of  warfare,  and  to  qualify  them- 
selves step  by  step  to  take  command.  They  were 
promoted  as  they  showed  signs  of  their  capacity,  and 
gave  proof  of  their  talent.  Now,  however,  it  was  very 
different.  Promotion  was  granted  according  to  length 
of  service,  thus  rendering  all  application  and  diligence 
unnecessary,  except  when  M.  de  Louvois  suggested  to 
the  King  such  officers  as  he  had  private  reasons  for 
being  favourable  to,  and  whose  actions  he  could  con- 
trol. He  persuaded  the  King  that  it  was  he  himself 
who  ought  to  direct  the  armies  from  his  cabinet.  The 
King,  flattered  by  this,  swallowed  the  bait,  and  Lou- 
vois himself  was  thus  enabled  to  govern  in  the  name 
of  the  King,  to  keep  the  generals  in  leading-strings, 
and  to  fetter  their  every  movement.  In  consequence 
of  the  way  in  which  promotions  were  made,  the  great- 
est ignorance  prevailed  amongst  all  grades  of  officers. 
None  knew  scarcely  anything  more  than  mere  routine 
duties,  and  sometimes  not  even  so  much  as  that.  The 
luxury  which  had  inundated  the  army,  too,  where 
everybody  wished  to  live  as  delicately  as  at  Paris, 
hindered  the  general  officers  from  associating  with  the 
other  officers,  and  in  consequence  from  knowing  and 
appreciating  them.  As  a  matter  of  course,  there  were 


76  Memoirs  of 

no  longer  any  deliberations  upon  the  state  of  affairs, 
in  which  the  young  might  profit  by  the  counsels  of  the 
old,  and  the  army  profit  by  the  discussions  of  all.  The 
young  officers  talked  only  of  play  and  women  ;  the  old, 
of  forage  and  equipages ;  the  generals  spent  half  their 
time  in  writing  costly  despatches,  often  useless,  and 
sending  them  away  by  couriers.  The  luxury  of  the 
Court  and  city  had  spread  into  the  army,  so  that  deli- 
cacies were  carried  there  unknown  formerly.  Noth- 
ing was  spoken  of  but  hot  dishes  in  the  marches  and 
in  the  detachments ;  and  the  repasts  that  were  carried 
to  the  trenches,  during  sieges,  were  not  only  well 
served,  but  ices  and  fruits  were  partaken  of  as  at  a  fete, 
and  a  profusion  of  all  sorts  of  liqueurs.  Expense 
ruined  the  officers,  who  vied  with  one  another  in  their 
endeavours  to  appear  magnificent ;  and  the  things  to 
be  carried,  the  work  to  be  done,  quadrupled  the  num- 
ber of  domestics  and  grooms,  who  often  starved.  For 
a  long  time,  people  had  complained  of  all  this ;  even 
those  who  were  put  to  the  expenses,  which  ruined 
them ;  but  none  dared  to  spend  less.  At  last,  that  is 
to  say,  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  the  King 
made  severe  rules,  with  the  object  of  bringing  about 
a  reform  in  this  particular.  There  is  no  country  in 
Europe  where  there  are  so  many  fine  laws,  or  where 
the  observance  of  them  is  of  shorter  duration.  It  often 
happens,  that  in  the  first  year  all  are  infringed,  and  in 
the  second,  forgotten.  Such  was  the  army  at  this  time, 
and  we  soon  had  abundant  opportunities  to  note  its 
incapacity  to  overcome  the  enemies  with  whom  we  had 
to  contend. 

The  King  wished  to  open  this  campaign  with  two 


Saint-Simon  77 

battles ;  one  in  Italy,  the  other  in  Flanders.  His  de- 
sire was  to  some  extent  gratified  in  the  former  case ; 
but  in  the  other  he  met  with  a  sad  and  cruel  dis- 
appointment. Since  the  departure  of  Marechal  de 
Villeroy  for  Flanders,  the  King  had  more  than  once 
pressed  him  to  engage  the  enemy.  The  Marechal, 
piqued  with  these  reiterated  orders,  which  he  consid- 
ered as  reflections  upon  his  courage,  determined  to 
risk  anything  in  order  to  satisfy  the  desire  of  the  King. 
But  the  King  did  not  wish  this.  At  the  same  time  that 
he  wished  for  a  battle  in  Flanders,  he  wished  to  place 
Yilleroy  in  a  state  to  fight  it.  He  sent  orders,  there- 
fore, to  Marsin  to  take  eighteen  battalions  and  twenty 
squadrons  of  his  army,  to  proceed  to  the  Moselle, 
where  he  would  find  twenty  others,  and  then  to  march 
with  the  whole  into  Flanders,  and  join  Marechal  de 
Yilleroy.  At  the  same  time  he  prohibited  the  latter 
from  doing  anything  until  this  reinforcement  reached 
him.  Four  couriers,  one  after  the  other,  carried  this 
prohibition  to  the  Marechal ;  but  he  had  determined  to 
give  battle  without  assistance,  and  he  did  so,  with  what 
result  will  be  seen. 

On  the  24th  of  May  he  posted  himself  between  the 
villages  of  Taviers  and  Ramillies.  He  was  superior 
in  force  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  was  opposed 
to  him,  and  this  fact  gave  him  confidence.  Yet  the 
position  which  he  had  taken  up  was  one  which  was 
well  known  to  be  bad.  The  late  M.  de  Luxembourg 
had  declared  it  so,  and  had  avoided  it.  M.  de  Yilleroy 
had  been  a  witness  of  this,  but  it  was  his  destiny  and 
that  of  France  that  lie  should  forget  it.  Before  he 
took  up  this  position  he  announced  that  it  was  his  in- 


78  Memoirs  of 

tention  to  do  so  to  M.  d'Orleans.  M.  d'Orleans  said 
publicly  to  all  who  came  to  listen,  that  if  M.  de  Villeroy 
did  so  he  would  be  beaten.  M.  d'Orleans  proved  to 
be  only  too  good  a  prophet. 

Just  as  M.  de  Villeroy  had  taken  up  his  position  and 
made  his  arrangements,  the  Elector  arrived  in  hot 
haste  from  Brussels.  It  was  too  late  now  to  blame 
what  had  been  done.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  complete  what  had  been  already  begun,  and  await 
the  result. 

It  was  about  two  hours  after  midday  when  the  enemy 
arrived  within  range,  and  came  under  our  fire  from 
Ramillies.  It  forced  them  to  halt  until  their  cannon 
could  be  brought  into  play,  which  was  soon  done.  The 
cannonade  lasted  a  good  hour.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  they  marched  to  Taviers,  where  a  part  of  our 
army  was  posted,  found  but  little  resistance,  and  made 
themselves  masters  of  that  place.  From  that  moment 
they  brought  their  cavalry  to  bear.  They  perceived 
that  there  was  a  marsh  which  covered  our  left,  but 
which  hindered  our  two  wings  from  joining.  They 
made  good  use  of  the  advantage  this  gave  them.  We 
were  taken  in  the  rear  at  more  than  one  point,  and 
Taviers  being  no  longer  able  to  assist  us,  Ramillies 
itself  fell,  after  a  prodigious  fire  and  an  obstinate  re- 
sistance. The  Comte  de  Guiche  at  the  head  of  the 
regiment  of  Guards  defended  it  for  four  hours,  and 
performed  prodigies,  but  in  the  end  he  was  obliged  to 
give  way.  All  this  time  our  left  had  been  utterly  use- 
less with  its  nose  in  the  marsh,  no  enemy  in  front  of  it, 
and  with  strict  orders  not  to  budge  from  its  position. 

Our  retreat  commenced  in  good  order,  but  soon  the 


Saint-Simon  79 

night  came  and  threw  us  into  confusion.  The  defile 
of  Judoigne  became  so  gorged  with  baggage  and  with 
the  wrecks  of  the  artillery  we  had  been  able  to  save, 
that  everything  was  taken  from  us  there.  Neverthe- 
less, we  arrived  at  Louvain,  and  then  not  feeling  in 
safety,  passed  the  canal  of  Wilworde  without  being 
very  closely  followed  by  the  enemy. 

We  lost  in  this  battle  four  thousand  men,  and  many 
prisoners  of  rank,  all  of  whom  were  treated  with  much 
politeness  by  Marlborough.  Brussels  was  one  of  the 
first-fruits  he  gathered  of  this  victory,  which  had  such 
grave  and  important  results. 

The  King  did  not  learn  this  disaster  until  Wednes- 
day, the  26th  of  May,  at  his  waking.  I  was  at  Versailles. 
Never  was  such  trouble  or  such  consternation.  The 
worst  was,  that  only  the  broad  fact  was  known  ;  for  six 
days  we  were  without  a  courier  to  give  us  details. 
Even  the  post  was  stopped.  Days  seemed  like  years 
in  the  ignorance  of  everybody  as  to  details,  and  in  the 
inquietude  of  everybody  for  relatives  and  friends.  The 
King  was  forced  to  ask  one  and  another  for  news ;  but 
nobody  could  tell  him  any.  Worn  out  at  last  by  the 
silence,  he  determined  to  despatch  Chamillart  to  Flan- 
ders to  ascertain  the  real  state  of  affairs.  Chamillart 
accordingly  left  Versailles  on  Sunday,  the  3Oth  of  May, 
to  the  astonishment  of  all  the  Court,  at  seeing  a  man 
charged  with  the  war  and  the  finance  department  sent 
on  such  an  errand.  He  astonished  no  less  the  army 
when  he  arrived  at  Courtrai,  where  it  had  stationed  it- 
self. Having  gained  all  the  information  he  sought, 
Chamillart  returned  to  Versailles  on  Friday,  the  4th  of 
June,  at  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  at  once 


8o  Memoirs  of 

went  to  the  King,  who  was  in  the  apartments  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  It  was  known  then  that  the 
army,  after  several  hasty  marches,  finding  itself  at 
Ghent,  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  had  insisted  that  it 
ought  at  least  to  remain  there.  A  council  of  war  was 
held,  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  who  was  quite  dis- 
couraged by  the  loss  he  had  sustained,  opposed  the 
advice  of  the  Elector.  Ghent  was  abandoned,  so  was 
the  open  country.  The  army  was  separated  and  dis- 
tributed here  and  there,  under  the  command  of  the 
general  officers.  In  this  way,  with  the  exception  of 
Namur,  Mons,  and  a  very  few  other  places,  all  the 
Spanish  Low  Countries  were  lost,  and  a  part  of  ours, 
even.  Never  was  rapidity  equal  to  this.  The  ene- 
mies were  as  much  astonished  as  we. 

However  tranquilly  the  King  sustained  in  appear- 
ance this  misfortune,  he  felt  it  to  the  quick.  He  was 
so  affected  by  what  was  said  of  his  body-guards,  that 
he  spoke  of  them  himself  with  bitterness.  Court  war- 
riors testified  in  their  favour,  but  persuaded  nobody. 
But  the  King  seized  these  testimonies  with  joy,  and 
sent  word  to  the  Guards  that  he  was  well  contented 
with  them.  Others,  however,  were  not  so  easily  satis- 
fied. 

This  sad  reverse  and  the  discontent  of  the  Elector 
made  the  King  feel  at  last  that  his  favourites  must 
give  way  to  those  better  able  to  fill  their  places. 
Villeroy  who,  since  his  defeat,  had  quite  lost  his  head, 
and  who,  if  he  had  been  a  general  of  the  Empire  would 
have  lost  it  in  reality  in  another  manner,  received 
several  strong  hints  from  the  King  that  he  ought  to 
give  up  his  command.  But  he  either  could  not  or 


Saint-Simon 


81 


would  not  understand  them,  and  so  tired  out  the  King's 
patience,  at  length.  But  he  was  informed  in  language 
which  admitted  of  no  misapprehension  that  he  must 
return.  Even  then,  the  King  was  so  kindly  disposed 
towards  him,  that  he  said  the  Marechal  had  begged  to 
be  recalled  with  such  obstinacy  that  he  could  not  re- 
fuse him.  But  AI.  de  Villeroy  was  absurd  enough  to 
reject  this  salve  for  his  honour;  which  led  to  his  dis- 
grace. M.  de  Vendome  had  orders  to  leave  Italy,  and 
succeed  to  the  command  in  Flanders,  where  the  ene- 
mies had  very  promptly  taken  Ostend  and  Nieuport. 


VOL.  II.— 6 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Abandonment  of  the  Siege  of  Barcelona — Affairs  of  Italy — 
La  Feuillade — Disastrous  Rivalries — Conduct  of  M.  d'Or- 
leans  —  The  Siege  of  Turin  —  Battle  —  Victory  of  Prince 
Eugene — Insubordination  in  the  Army — Retreat — M.  d'Or- 
leans  Returns  to  Court — Disgrace  of  La  Feuillade. 


M 


EANWHILE,  as  I  have  promised  to  relate,  in 
a  continuous  narrative,  all  our  military  opera- 
tions of  this  year,  let  me  say  what  passed  in  other 
directions.  The  siege  of  Barcelona  made  no  progress. 
Our  engineers  were  so  slow  and  so  ignorant,  that  they 
did  next  to  nothing.  They  were  so  venal,  too,  that 
they  aided  the  enemy  rather  than  us  by  their  move- 
ments. According  to  a  new  rule  made  by  the  King, 
whenever  they  changed  the  position  of  their  guns,  they 
were  entitled  to  a  pecuniary  recompense.  Accord- 
ingly, they  passed  all  their  time  in  uselessly  changing 
about  from  place  to  place,  in  order  to  receive  the 
recompense  which  thus  became  due  to  them. 

Our  fleet,  too,  hearing  that  a  much  superior  naval 
force  was  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  enemy,  and 
being,  thanks  to  Pontchartrain,  utterly  unable  to  meet 
it,  was  obliged  to  weigh  anchor,  and  sailed  away  to 
Toulon.  The  enemy's  fleet  arrived,  and  the  besieged 

82 


Saint-Simon  83 

at  once  took  new  courage.  Tesse,  who  had  joined  the 
siege,  saw  at  once  that  it  was  useless  to  continue  it. 
\Ye  had  for  some  time  depended  upon  the  open  sea 
for  supplies.  Now  that  the  English  fleet  had  arrived, 
we  could  depend  upon  the  sea  no  longer.  The  King  of 
Spain  saw,  at  last,  that  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  to 
raise  the  siege. 

It  was  raised  accordingly  on  the  night  between  the 
loth  and  nth  of  May,  after  fourteen  days'  bombard- 
ment. \Ye  abandoned  one  hundred  pieces  of  artillery  ; 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  of  powder ; 
thirty  thousand  sacks  of  flour ;  twenty  thousand  sacks 
of  sci'ddc,  a  kind  of  oats  ;  and  a  great  number  of  bombs, 
cannon-balls,  and  implements.  As  Catalonia  was  in 
revolt,  it  was  felt  that  retreat  could  not  take  place  in 
that  direction  ;  it  was  determined,  therefore,  to  retire 
by  the  way  of  the  French  frontier.  For  eight  days, 
however,  our  troops  were  harassed  in  flank  and  rear  by 
Miquelets,  who  followed  us  from  mountain  to  moun- 
tain. It  was  not  until  the  Due  de  Xoailles,  whose 
father  had  done  some  service  to  the  chiefs  of  these 
Miquelets,  had  parleyed  with  them,  and  made  terms 
with  them,  that  our  troops  were  relieved  from  these 
cruel  wasps.  \Ye  suffered  much  loss  in  our  retreat, 
which,  with  the  siege,  cost  us  full  four  thousand  men. 
The  army  stopped  at  Roussillon,  and  the  King  of  Spain, 
escorted  by  two  regiments  of  dragoons,  made  the  best 
of  his  way  to  Madrid.  That  city  was  itself  in  danger 
from  the  Portuguese,  and,  indeed,  fell  into  their  hands 
soon  after.  The  Queen,  who,  with  her  children,  had 
left  it  in  time  to  avoid  capture,  felt  matters  to  be  in 
such  extremity,  that  she  despatched  all  the  jewels  be- 


84  Memoirs  of 

longing  to  herself  and  her  husband  to  France.  They 
were  placed  in  the  custody  of  the  King.  Among  them 
was  that  famous  pear-shaped  pearl  called  the  Peregrine, 
which,  for  its  weight,  its  form,  its  size,  and  its  water, 
is  beyond  all  price  and  all  comparison. 

The  King  of  Spain  effected  a  junction  with  the  army 
of  Berwick,  and  both  set  to  work  to  reconquer  the 
places  the  Portuguese  had  taken  from  them.  In  this 
they  were  successful.  The  Portuguese,  much  harassed 
by  the  people  of  Castille,  were  forced  to  abandon  all 
they  had  gained ;  and  the  King  of  Spain  was  enabled 
to  enter  Madrid  towards  the  end  of  September,  where 
he  was  received  with  much  rejoicing. 

In  Italy  we  experienced  the  most  disastrous  mis- 
fortunes. M.  de  Vendome,  having  been  called  from 
the  command  to  go  into  Flanders,  M.  d'Orleans,  after 
some  deliberation,  was  appointed  to  take  his  place. 
M.  d'Orleans  set  out  from  Paris  on  the  ist  of  July, 
with  twenty-eight  horses  and  five  chaises,  to  arrive  in 
three  days  at  Lyons,  and  then  to  hasten  on  into  Italy. 
La  Feuillade  was  besieging  Turin.  M.  d'Orleans 
went  to  the  siege.  He  was  magnificently  received  by 
La  Feuillade,  and  shown  all  over  the  works.  He 
found  everything  defective.  La  Feuillade  was  very 
young,  and  very  inexperienced.  I  have  already  re- 
lated an  adventure  of  his,  that  of  his  seizing  upon  the 
coffers  of  his  uncle,  and  so  forestalling  his  inheritance. 
To  recover  from  the  disgrace  this  occurrence  brought 
upon  him,  he  had  married  a  daughter  of  Chamillart. 
Favoured  by  this  minister,  but  coldly  looked  upon  by 
the  King,  he  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  command  in 
the  army,  and  had  been  appointed  to  conduct  this 


Saint-Simon  85 

siege.  Inflated  by  the  importance  of  his  position,  and 
by  the  support  of  Chamillart,  he  would  listen  to  no 
advice  from  any  one.  M.  d'Orleans  attempted  to 
bring  about  some  changes,  and  gave  orders  to  that 
effect.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  La  Feuillade 
countermanded  those  orders  and  had  everything  his 
own  way.  The  siege  accordingly  went  on  with  the 
same  ill-success  as  before. 

M.  d'Orleans  joined  M.  de  Yendome  on  the  I7th 
of  July,  upon  the  Mincio.  The  pretended  hero  had 
just  made  some  irreparable  faults.  He  had  allowed 
Prince  Eugene  to  pass  the  Po,  nearly  in  front  of  him, 
and  nobody  knew  what  had  become  of  twelve  of  our 
battalions  posted  near  the  place  where  this  passage 
had  been  made.  Prince  Eugene  had  taken  all  the 
boats  that  we  had  upon  the  river.  We  could  not  cross 
it,  therefore,  and  follow  the  enemy  without  making  a 
bridge.  Yendome  feared  lest  his  faults  should  be  per- 
ceived. He  wished  that  his  successor  should  remain 
charged  with  them.  M.  d'Orleans,  indeed,  soon  saw 
all  the  faults  that  M.  de  Yendome  had  committed,  and 
tried  hard  to  induce  the  latter  to  aid  him  to  repair 
them.  But  M.  de  Yendome  would  not  listen  to  his 
representations,  and  started  away  almost  immediately 
to  take  the  command  of  the  army  in  Flanders,  leaving 
M.  d'Orleans  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  as  he  might. 

M.  d'Orleans,  abandoned  to  himself  (except  when 
interfered  with  by  Marechal  de  Marsin,  under  whose 
tutelage  he  was),  could  do  nothing.  He  found  as 
much  opposition  to  his  plans  from  Marsin  as  he  had 
found  from  M.  de  Yendume.  Marsin  wished  to  keep 
in  the  good  graces  of  La  Feuillade,  son-in-law  of  the 


86  Memoirs  of 

all-powerful  minister,  and  would  not  adopt  the  views 
of  M.  d'Orleans.  This  latter  had  proposed  to  dispute 
the  passage  of  the  Tanaro,  a  confluent  of  the  Po,  with 
the  enemy,  or  compel  them  to  accept  battle.  An  in- 
tercepted letter,  in  cypher,  from  Prince  Eugene  to  the 
Emperor,  which  fell  into  our  hands,  proved,  subse- 
quently, that  this  course  would  have  been  the  right 
one  to  adopt ;  but  the  proof  came  too  late ;  the  de- 
cyphering  table  having  been  forgotten  at  Versailles ! 
M.  d'Orleans  had  in  the  mean  time  been  forced  to  lead 
his  army  to  Turin,  to  assist  the  besiegers,  instead  of 
waiting  to  stop  the  passage  of  the  troops  that  were 
destined  for  the  aid  of  the  besieged.  He  arrived  at 
Turin  on  the  28th  of  August,  in  the  evening.  La 
Feuillade,  now  under  two  masters,  grew,  it  might  be 
imagined,  more  docile.  But  no !  He  allied  himself 
with  Marsin  (without  whom  M.  d'Orleans  could  do 
nothing),  and  so  gained  him  over  that  they  acted  com- 
pletely in  accord.  When  M.  d'Orleans  was  convinced, 
soon  after  his  arrival,  that  the  enemy  was  approaching 
to  succour  Turin,  he  suggested  that  they  should  be 
opposed  as  they  attempted  the  passage  of  the  Dora. 
But  his  advice  was  not  listened  to.  He  was  displeased 
with  everything.  He  found  that  all  the  orders  he  had 
given  had  been  disregarded.  He  found  the  siege 
works  bad,  imperfect,  very  wet,  and  very  ill-guarded. 
He  tried  to  remedy  all  these  defects,  but  he  was  op- 
posed at  every  step.  A  council  of  war  was  held.  M. 
d'Orleans  stated  his  views,  but  all  the  officers  present, 
with  one  honourable  exception,  servilely  chimed  in 
with  the  views  of  Marsin  and  La  Feuillade,  and  things 
remained  as  they  were.  M.  d'Orleans,  thereupon, 


Saint-Simon  87 

protested  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  all  the  misfort- 
unes that  might  happen  in  consequence  of  his  advice 
being  neglected.  He  declared  that  as  he  was  no  longer 
master  over  anything,  it  was  not  just  that  he  should 
bear  any  part  of  the  blame  which  would  entail  to  those 
in  command.  He  asked,  therefore,  for  his  postchaise, 
and  wished  immediately  to  quit  the  army.  La  Feuil- 
lade  and  Alarsin,  however,  begged  him  to  remain,  and 
upon  second  thoughts  he  thought  it  better  to  do  so. 
The  simple  reason  of  all  this  opposition  was,  that  La 
Feuillade,  being  very  young  and  very  vain,  wished  to 
have  all  the  honours  of  the  siege.  He  was  afraid  that 
if  the  counsel  of  M.  d'Orleans  prevailed,  some  of  that 
honour  would  be  taken  from  him.  This  was  the  real 
reason,  and  to  this  France  owes  the  disastrous  failure 
of  the  siege  of  Turin. 

After  the  council  of  war,  M.  d'Orleans  ceased  to  take 
any  share  in  the  command,  walked  about  or  stopped 
at  home,  like  a  man  who  had  nothing  to  do  with  what 
was  passing  around  him.  On  the  night  of  the  6th 
to  the  7th  of  September,  he  rose  from  his  bed  alarmed 
by  information  sent  to  him  in  a  letter,  that  Prince 
Eugene  was  about  to  attack  the  castle  of  Pianezza,  in 
order  to  cross  the  Dora,  and  so  proceed  to  attack  the 
besiegers.  He  hastened  at  once  to  Alarsin,  showed 
him  the  letter,  and  recommended  that  troops  should 
at  once  be  sent  to  dispute  the  passage  of  a  brook  that 
the  enemies  had  yet  to  cross,  even  supposing  them  to 
be  masters  of  Pianezza.  Even  as  he  was  speaking, 
confirmation  of  the  intelligence  he  had  received  was 
brought  by  one  of  our  officers.  But  it  was  resolved, 
in  the  Eternal  decrees,  that  France  should  be  struck  to 
the  heart  that  day. 


88  Memoirs  of 

Marsin  would  listen  to  none  of  the  arguments  of 
M.  d'Orleans.  He  maintained  that  it  would  be  unsafe 
to  leave  the  lines ;  that  the  news  was  false ;  that  Prince 
Eugene  could  not  possibly  arrive  so  promptly ;  he 
would  give  no  orders  ;  and  he  counselled  M.  d'Orleans 
to  go  back  to  bed.  The  Prince,  more  piqued  and  more 
disgusted  than  ever,  retired  to  his  quarters  fully  re- 
solved to  abandon  everything  to  the  blind  and  deaf, 
who  would  neither  see  nor  hear. 

Soon  after  entering  his  chamber  the  news  spread 
from  all  parts  of  the  arrival  of  Prince  Eugene.  He  did 
not  stir.  Some  general  officers  came,  and  forced  him 
to  mount  his  horse.  He  went  forth  negligently  at  a 
walking  pace.  What  had  taken  place  during  the  previ- 
ous days  had  made  so  much  noise  that  even  the  com- 
mon soldiers  were  ashamed  of  it.  They  liked  him, 
and  murmured  because  he  would  no  longer  command 
them.  One  of  them  called  him  by  his  name,  and  asked 
him  if  he  refused  them  his  sword.  This  question  did 
more  than  all  that  the  general  officers  had  been  able 
to  do.  M.  d'Orleans  replied  to  the  soldier,  that  he 
would  not  refuse  to  serve  them,  and  at  once  resolved 
to  lend  all  his  aid  to  Marsin  and  La  Feuillade. 

But  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  leave  the  lines.  The 
enemy  was  in  sight,  and  advanced  so  diligently,  that 
there  was  no  time  to  make  arrangements.  Marsin, 
more  dead  than  alive,  was  incapable  of  giving  any 
order  or  any  advice.  But  La  Feuillade  still  persevered 
in  his  obstinacy.  He  disputed  the  orders  of  the  Due 
d'Orleans,  and  prevented  their  execution,  possessed 
by  I  know  not  what  demon. 

The  attack  was  commenced  about  ten  o'clock  in  the 


Saint-Simon  89 

morning,  was  pushed  with  incredible  vigour,  and  sus- 
tained, at  first,  in  the  same  manner.  Prince  Eugene 
poured  his  troops  into  those  places  which  the  small- 
ness  of  our  forces  had  compelled  us  to  leave  open. 
Marsin,  towards  the  middle  of  the  battle,  received  a 
wound  which  incapacitated  him  from  further  service, 
and  was  taken  prisoner  immediately  after.  La  Feuil- 
lade  ran  about  like  a  madman,  tearing  his  hair,  and 
incapable  of  giving  any  order.  The  Due  d'Orleans 
preserved  his  coolness,  and  did  wonders  to  save  the 
day.  Finding  our  men  beginning  to  waver,  he  called 
the  officers  by  their  names,  aroused  the  soldiers  by  his 
voice,  and  himself  led  the  squadrons  and  battalions  to 
the  charge.  Vanquished  at  last  by  pain,  and  weakened 
by  the  blood  he  had  lost,  he  was  constrained  to  retire 
a  little,  to  have  his  wounds  dressed.  He  scarcely  gave 
himself  time  for  this,  however,  but  returned  at  once 
where  the  fire  was  hottest.  Three  times  the  enemy 
had  been  repulsed,  and  their  guns  spiked  by  one  of 
our  officers,  Le  Guerchois,  with  his  brigade  of  the  old 
marine,  when,  enfeebled  by  the  losses  he  had  sustained, 
he  called  upon  a  neighbouring  brigade  to  advance  with 
him  to  oppose  a  number  of  fresh  battalions  the  enemy 
had  sent  against  him.  This  brigade  and  its  brigadier 
refused  bluntly  to  aid  him.  It  was  positively  known 
afterwards,  that  had  Le  Guerchois  sustained  this  fourth 
charge,  Prince  Eugene  would  have  retreated. 

This  was  the  last  moment  of  the  little  order  that 
there  had  been  at  this  battle.  All  that  followed  was 
only  trouble,  confusion,  disorder,  flight,  discomfiture. 
The  most  terrible  thing  is,  that  the  general  officers, 
with  but  few  exceptions,  more  intent  upon  their  equi- 


90  Memoirs  of 

page  and  upon  what  they  had  saved  by  pillage,  added 
to  the  confusion  instead  of  diminishing  it,  and  were 
worse  than  useless. 

M.  d'Orleans,  convinced  at  last  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  re-establish  the  day,  thought  only  how  to  retire 
as  advantageously  as  possible.  He  withdrew  his  light 
artillery,  his  ammunition,  everything  that  was  at  the 
siege,  even  at  the  most  advanced  of  its  works,  and  at- 
tended to  everything  with  a  presence  of  mind  that 
allowed  nothing  to  escape  him.  Then,  gathering 
round  him  all  the  officers  he  could  collect,  he  explained 
to  them  that  nothing  but  retreat  was  open  to  them, 
and  that  the  road  to  Italy  was  that  which  they  ought 
to  pursue.  By  this  means  they  would  leave  the  vic- 
torious army  of  the  enemy  in  a  country  entirely  ruined 
and  desolate,  and  hinder  it  from  returning  into  Italy, 
where  the  army  of  the  King,  on  the  contrary,  would 
have  abundance,  and  where  it  would  cut  off  all  succour 
from  the  others. 

This  proposition  dismayed  to  the  last  degree  our 
officers,  who  hoped  at  least  to  reap  the  fruit  of  this 
disaster  by  returning  to  France  with  the  money  with 
which  they  were  gorged.  La  Feuillade  opposed  it 
with  so  much  impatience,  that  the  Prince,  exasperated 
by  an  effrontery  so  sustained,  told  him  to  hold  his 
peace  and  let  others  speak.  Others  did  speak,  but 
only  one  was  for  following  the  counsel  of  M.  d'Orleans. 
Feeling  himself  now,  however,  the  master,  he  stopped 
all  further  discussion,  and  gave  orders  that  the  retreat 
to  Italy  should  commence.  This  was  all  he  could  do. 
His  body  and  his  brain  were  equally  exhausted.  After 
having  waited  some  little  time,  he  was  compelled  to 


Saint-Simon  91 

throw  himself  into  a  post-chaise,  and  in  that  to  con- 
tinue the  journey. 

The  officers  obeyed  his  orders  most  unwillingly. 
They  murmured  amongst  each  other  so  loudly  that 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  justly  irritated  by  so  much  oppo- 
sition to  his  will,  made  them  hold  their  peace.  The 
retreat  continued.  But  it  was  decreed  that  the  spirit 
of  error  and  vertigo  should  ruin  us  and  save  the  allies. 
As  the  army  was  about  to  cross  the  bridge  over  the 
Ticino,  and  march  into  Italy,  information  was  brought 
to  M.  d'Orleans,  that  the  enemy  occupied  the  roads 
by  which  it  was  indispensable  to  pass.  M.  d'Orleans, 
not  believing  this  intelligence,  persisted  in  going  for- 
ward. Our  officers,  thus  foiled,  for  it  was  known 
afterwards  that  the  story  was  their  invention,  and  that 
the  passes  were  entirely  free,  hit  upon  another  expe- 
dient. They  declared  there  was  no  more  provisions 
or  ammunition,  and  that  it  was  accordingly  impossible 
to  go  into  Italy.  M.  d'Orleans,  worn  out  by  so  much 
criminal  disobedience,  and  weakened  by  his  wound, 
could  hold  out  no  longer.  He  threw  himself  back  in 
the  chaise,  and  said  they  might  go  where  they  would. 
The  army  therefore  turned  about,  and  directed  itself 
towards  Pignerol,  losing  many  equipages  from  our 
rear-guard  during  the  night  in  the  mountains,  al- 
though that  rear-guard  was  protected  by  Albergotti, 
and  was  not  annoyed  by  the  enemy. 

The  joy  of  the  enemy  at  their  success  was  un- 
bounded. They  could  scarcely  believe  in  it.  Their 
army  was  just  at  its  last  gasp.  They  had  not  more 
than  four  days'  supply  of  powder  left  in  the  place. 
After  the  victory,  M.  de  Savoie  and  Prince  Eugene 


92  Memoirs  of 

lost  no  time  in  idle  rejoicings.  They  thought  only 
how  to  profit  by  a  success  so  unheard  of  and  so  unex- 
pected. They  retook  rapidly  all  the  places  in  Pied- 
mont and  Lombardy  that  we  occupied,  and  we  had 
no  power  to  prevent  them. 

Never  battle  cost  fewer  soldiers  than  that  of  Turin ; 
never  was  retreat  more  undisturbed  than  ours ;  yet 
never  were  results  more  frightful  or  more  rapid. 
Ramillies,  with  a  light  loss,  cost  the  Spanish  Low 
Countries  and  part  of  ours :  Turin  cost  all  Italy  by  the 
ambition  of  La  Feuillade,  the  incapacity  of  Marsin, 
the  avarice,  the  trickery,  the  disobedience  of  the  gen- 
eral officers  opposed  to  M.  d'Orleans.  So  complete 
was  the  rout  of  our  army,  that  it  was  found  impossible 
to  restore  it  sufficiently  to  send  it  back  to  Italy,  not  at 
least  before  the  following  spring.  M.  d'Orleans  re- 
turned therefore  to  Versailles,  on  Monday,  the  8th  of 
November,  and  was  well  received  by  the  King.  La 
Feuillade  arrived  on  Monday,  the  i3th  of  December, 
having  remained  several  days  at  Paris  without  daring 
to  go  to  Versailles.  He  was  taken  to  the  King  by 
Chamillart.  As  soon  as  the  King  saw  them  enter  he 
rose,  went  to  the  door,  and  without  giving  them  time 
to  utter  a  word,  said  to  La  Feuillade,  "  Monsieur,  we 
are  both  very  unfortunate !  "  and  instantly  turned  his 
back  upon  him.  La  Feuillade,  on  the  threshold  of 
the  door  that  he  had  not  had  time  to  cross,  left  the 
place  immediately,  without  having  dared  to  say  a  single 
word.  The  King  always  afterwards  turned  his  eyes 
from  La  Feuillade,  and  would  never  speak  to  him. 
Such  was  the  fall  of  this  Phaeton.  He  saw  that  he  had 
no  more  hope,  and  retired  from  the  army ;  although 


Saint-Simon 


93 


there  was  no  baseness  that  he  did  not  afterwards  em- 
ploy to  return  to  command.  I  think  there  never  was 
a  more  wrong-headed  man  or  a  man  more  radically 
dishonest,  even  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones.  As  for 
Marsin,  he  died  soon  after  his  capture,  from  the  effect 
of  his  wounds.* 

*  It  may  be  as  well  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  Due  d'Or!6ans  who 
figures  in  this  Chapter  is  the  same  known  as  the  Due  de  Chartres  in 
the  former  part  of  this  volume — afterwards  Regent  of  France. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Measures  of  Economy — Financial  Embarrassments — The  King 
and  Chamillart — Tax  on  Baptisms  and  Marriages — Vauban's 
Patriotism — Its  Punishment — My  Action  with  M.  de  Bris- 
sac — I  Appeal  to  the  King — The  Result — I  Gain  my  Action. 

SUCH  was  our  military  history  of  the  year  1706 — a 
history  of  losses  and  dishonour.  It  may  be 
imagined  in  what  condition  was  the  exchequer  with 
so  many  demands  upon  its  treasures.  For  the  last 
two  or  three  years  the  King  had  been  obliged,  on 
account  of  the  expenses  of  the  war,  and  the  losses  we 
had  sustained,  to  cut  down  the  presents  that  he  made 
at  the  commencement  of  the  year.  Thirty-five  thou- 
sand louis  in  gold  was  the  sum  he  ordinarily  spent  in 
this  manner.  This  year,  1707,  he  diminished  it  by 
ten  thousand  louis.  It  was  upon  Madame  de  Monte- 
span  that  the  blow  fell.  Since  she  had  quitted  the 
Court  the  King  gave  her  twelve  thousand  louis  of 
gold  each  year.  This  year  he  sent  word  to  her  that 
he  could  only  give  her  eight.  Madame  de  Montespan 
testified  not  the  least  surprise.  She  replied,  that  she 
was  only  sorry  for  the  poor,  to  whom  indeed  she  gave 
with  profusion.  A  short  time  after  the  King  had  made 
this  reduction, — that  is,  on  the  8th  of  January, — 
Madame  La  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  gave  birth  to  a 

94 


Saint-Simon  95 

son.  The  joy  was  great,  but  the  King  prohibited  all 
those  expenses  which  had  been  made  at  the  birth  of 
the  first-born  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  and  which 
had  amounted  to  a  large  sum.  The  want  of  money 
indeed  made  itself  felt  so  much  at  this  time,  that  the 
King  was  obliged  to  seek  for  resources  as  a  private 
person  might  have  done.  A  mining  speculator,  named 
Rodes,  having  pretended  that  he  had  discovered  many 
veins  of  gold  in  the  Pyrenees,  assistance  was  given  him 
in  order  that  he  might  bring  these  treasures  to  light. 
He  declared  that  with  eighteen  hundred  workmen  he 
would  furnish  a  million  (francs'  worth  of  gold)  each 
week.  Fifty-two  millions  a-year  would  have  been  a 
fine  increase  of  revenue.  However,  after  waiting  some 
little  time,  no  gold  was  forthcoming,  and  the  money 
that  had  been  spent  to  assist  this  enterprise  was  found 
to  be  pure  loss. 

The  difficulty  of  finding  money  to  carry  on  the  af- 
fairs of  the  nation  continued  to  grow  so  irksome  that 
Chamillart,  who  had  both  the  finance  and  the  war  de- 
partments under  his  control,  was  unable  to  stand 
against  the  increased  trouble  and  vexation  which  this 
state  of  things  brought  him.  More  than  once  he  had 
represented  that  this  double  work  was  too  much  for 
him.  But  the  King  had  in  former  times  expressed  so 
much  annoyance  from  the  troubles  that  arose  between 
the  finance  and  war  departments,  that  he  would  not 
separate  them,  after  having  once  joined  them  together. 
At  last,  Chamillart  could  bear  up  against  his  heavy 
load  no  longer.  The  vapours  seized  him  :  he  had  at- 
tacks of  giddiness  in  the  head  ;  his  digestion  was  ob- 
structed ;  he  grew  thin  as  a  lath.  He  wrote  again  to 


96  Memoirs  of 

the  King,  begging  to  be  released  from  his  duties,  and 
frankly  stated  that,  in  the  state  he  was,  if  some  relief 
was  not  afforded  him,  everything  would  go  wrong  and 
perish.  He  always  left  a  large  margin  to  his  letters, 
and  upon  this  the  King  generally  wrote  his  reply. 
Chamillart  showed  me  this  letter  when  it  came  back 
to  him,  and  I  saw  upon  it  with  great  surprise,  in  the 
handwriting  of  the  King,  this  short  note  :  "  Well !  let 
us  perish  together." 

The  necessity  for  money  had  now  become  so  great, 
that  all  sorts  of  means  were  adopted  to  obtain  it. 
Amongst  other  things,  a  tax  was  established  upon 
baptisms  and  marriages.  This  tax  was  extremely 
onerous  and  odious.  The  result  of  it  was  a  strange 
confusion.  Poor  people,  and  many  of  humble  means, 
baptised  their  children  themselves,  without  carrying 
them  to  the  church,  and  were  married  at  home  by 
reciprocal  consent  and  before  witnesses,  when  they 
could  find  no  priest  who  would  marry  them  without 
formality.  In  consequence  of  this  there  were  no 
longer  any  baptismal  extracts  ;  no  longer  any  certainty 
as  to  baptisms  or  births ;  and  the  children  of  the  mar- 
riages solemnised  in  the  way  I  have  stated  above  were 
illegitimate  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.  Researches  and 
rigours  in  respect  to  abuses  so  prejudicial  were  re- 
doubled therefore ;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  redoubled 
for  the  purpose  of  collecting  the  tax. 

From  public  cries  and  murmurs  the  people  in  some 
places  passed  to  sedition.  Matters  went  so  far  at 
Cahors,  that  two  battalions  which  were  there  had  great 
difficulty  in  holding  the  town  against  the  armed  peas- 
ants ;  and  troops  intended  for  Spain  were  obliged  to  be 


Saint-Simon  97 

sent  there.  It  was  found  necessary  to  suspend  the 
operation  of  the  tax,  but  it  was  with  great  trouble  that 
the  movement  of  Quercy  was  put  down,  and  the 
peasants,  who  had  armed  and  collected  together,  in- 
duced to  retire  into  their  villages.  In  Perigord  they 
rose,  pillaged  the  bureaux,  and  rendered  themselves 
masters  of  a  little  town  and  some  castles,  and  forced 
some  gentlemen  to  put  themselves  at  their  head.  They 
declared  publicly  that  they  would  pay  the  old  taxes  to 
King,  curate,  and  lord,  but  that  they  would  pay  no 
more,  or  hear  a  word  of  any  other  taxes  or  vexation. 
In  the  end  it  was  found  necessary  to  drop  this  tax 
upon  baptism  and  marriages,  to  the  great  regret  of 
the  tax-gatherers,  who,  by  all  manner  of  vexations  and 
rogueries,  had  enriched  themselves  cruelly. 

It  was  at  this  time,  and  in  consequence,  to  some 
extent,  of  these  events,  that  a  man  who  had  acquired 
the  highest  distinction  in  France  was  brought  to  the 
tomb  in  bitterness  and  grief,  for  that  which  in  any 
other  country  would  have  covered  him  with  honour. 
Yauban,  for  it  is  to  him  that  I  allude,  patriot  as  he  was, 
had  all  his  life  been  touched  with  the  misery  of  the 
people  and  the  vexations  they  suffered.  The  knowl- 
edge that  his  offices  gave  him  of  the  necessity  for 
expense,  the  little  hope  he  had  that  the  King  would 
retrench  in  matters  of  splendour  and  amusement,  made 
him  groan  to  see  no  remedy  to  an  oppression  which 
increased  in  weight  from  day  to  clay.  Feeling  this,  he 
made  no  journey  that  he  did  not  collect  information 
upon  the  value  and  produce  of  the  land,  upon  the  trade 
and  industry  of  the  towns  and  provinces,  on  the  nature 
of  the  imposts,  and  the  manner  of  collecting  them. 
VOL.  II.— 7 


98  Memoirs  of 

Not  content  with  this,  he  secretly  sent  to  such  places 
as  he  could  not  visit  himself,  or  even  to  those  he  had 
visited,  to  instruct  him  in  everything,  and  compare 
the  reports  he  received  with  those  he  had  himself  made. 
The  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  these 
researches,  and  at  considerable  cost  to  himself.  In 
the  end,  he  convinced  himself  that  the  land  was  the 
only  real  wealth,  and  he  set  himself  to  work  to  form 
a  new  system. 

He  had  already  made  much  progress,  when  several 
little  books  appeared  by  Boisguilbert,  lieutenant-gen- 
eral at  Rouen,  who  long  since  had  had  the  same  views 
as  Vauban,  and  had  wanted  to  make  them  known. 
From  this  labour  had  resulted  a  learned  and  profound 
book,  in  which  a  system  was  explained  by  which  the 
people  could  be  relieved  of  all  the  expenses  they  sup- 
ported, and  from  every  tax,  and  by  which  the  revenue 
collected  would  go  at  once  into  the  treasury  of  the 
King,  instead  of  enriching,  first  the  traitants,  the  in- 
tendants,  and  the  finance  ministers.  These  latter, 
therefore,  were  opposed  to  the  system,  and  their  oppo- 
sition, as  will  be  seen,  was  of  no  slight  consequence. 

Vauban  read  this  book  with  much  attention.  He 
differed  on  some  points  \vith  the  author,  but  agreed 
with  him  in  the  main.  Boisguilbert  wished  to  pre- 
serve some  imposts  upon  foreign  commerce  and  upon 
provisions.  Vauban  wished  to  abolish  all  imposts,  and 
to  substitute  for  them  two  taxes,  one  upon  the  land, 
the  other  upon  trade  and  industry.  His  book,  in  which 
he  put  forth  these  ideas,  was  full  of  information  and 
figures,  all  arranged  with  the  utmost  clearness,  sim- 
plicity, and  exactitude. 


Saint-Simon  99 

But  it  had  a  grand  fault.  It  described  a  course 
which,  if  followed,  would  have  ruined  an  army  of  finan- 
ciers, of  clerks,  of  functionaries  of  all  kinds ;  it  would 
have  forced  them  to  live  at  their  own  expense,  instead 
of  at  the  expense  of  the  people ;  and  it  would  have 
sapped  the  foundations  of  those  immense  fortunes 
that  are  seen  to  grow  up  in  such  a  short  time.  This 
was  enough  to  cause  its  failure. 

All  the  people  interested  in  opposing  the  work  set 
up  a  cry.  They  saw  place,  power,  everything,  about  to 
fly  from  their  grasp,  if  the  counsels  of  Vauban  were 
acted  upon.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  King,  who 
was  surrounded  by  these  people,  listened  to  their  rea- 
sons, and  received  with  a  very  ill  grace  Marechal  Yau- 
ban  when  he  presented  his  book  to  him.  The  minis- 
ters, it  may  well  be  believed,  did  not  give  him  a  better 
welcome.  From  that  moment  his  services,  his  military 
capacity  (unique  of  its  kind),  his  virtues,  the  affection 
the  King  had  had  for  him,  all  were  forgotten.  The 
King  saw  only  in  Marechal  Yauban  a  man  led  astray 
by  love  for  the  people,  a  criminal  who  attacked  the  au- 
thority of  the  ministers,  and  consequently  that  of  the 
King.  He  explained  himself  to  this  effect  without 
scruple. 

The  unhappy  Marechal  could  not  survive  the  loss  of 
his  royal  master's  favour,  or  stand  up  against  the  en- 
mity the  King's  explanations  had  created  against  him; 
he  died  a  few  months  after  consumed  with  grief,  and 
with  an  affliction  nothing  could  soften,  and  to  which 
the  King  was  insensible  to  such  a  point,  that  he  made 
semblance  of  not  perceiving  that  he  had  lost  a  servitor 
so  useful  and  so  illustrious.  Vauban,  justly  celebrated 


ioo  Memoirs  of 

over  all  Europe,  was  regretted  in  France  by  all  who 
were  not  financiers  or  their  supporters. 

Boisguilbert,  whom  this  event  ought  to  have  ren- 
dered wise,  could  not  contain  himself.  One  of  the  ob- 
jections which  had  been  urged  against  his  theories,  was 
the  difficulty  of  carrying  out  changes  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  war.  He  now  published  a  book  refuting  this 
point,  and  describing  such  a  number  of  abuses  then  ex- 
isting, to  abolish  which,  he  asked,  was  it  necessary  to 
wait  for  peace,  that  the  ministers  were  outraged.  Bois- 
guilbert was  exiled  to  Auvergne.  I  did  all  in  my  power 
to  revoke  this  sentence,  having  known  Boisguilbert  at 
Rouen,  but  did  not  succeed  until  the  end  of  two  months. 
He  was  then  allowed  to  return  to  Rouen,  but  was  se- 
verely reprimanded,  and  stripped  of  his  functions  for 
some  little  time.  He  was  amply  indemnified,  however, 
for  this  by  the  crowd  of  people,  and  the  acclamations 
with  which  he  \vas  received. 

It  is  due  to  Chamillart  to  say,  that  he  was  the  only 
minister  who  had  listened  with  any  attention  to  these 
new  systems  of  Vauban  and  Boisguilbert.  He  indeed 
made  trial  of  the  plans  suggested  by  the  former,  but 
the  circumstances  were  not  favourable  to  his  success, 
and  they  of  course  failed.  Some  time  after,  instead  of 
following  the  system  of  Vauban,  and  reducing  the  im- 
posts, fresh  ones  were  added.  Who  would  have  said 
to  the  Marechal  that  all  his  labours  for  the  relief  of  the 
people  of  France  would  lead  to  new  imposts,  more 
harsh,  more  permanent,  and  more  heavy  than  he  pro- 
tested against?  It  is  a  terrible  lesson  against  all  im- 
provements in  matters  of  taxation  and  finance. 

But  it  is  time,  now,  that  I  should  retrace  my  steps 


Saint-Simon  101 

to  other  matters,  which,  if  related  in  due  order  of  time, 
should  have  found  a  place  ere  this.  And  first,  let  me 
relate  the  particulars  concerning  a  trial  in  which  I  was 
engaged,  and  which  I  have  deferred  allusion  to  until 
now,  so  as  not  to  entangle  the  thread  of  my  narrative. 

My  sister,  as  I  have  said  in  its  proper  place,  had  mar- 
ried the  Due  de  Brissac,  and  the  marriage  had  not  been 
a  happy  one.  After  a  time,  in  fact,  they  separated.  My 
sister  at  her  death  left  me  her  universal  legatee;  and 
shortly  after  this,  M.  de  Brissac  brought  an  action 
against  me  on  her  account  for  five  hundred  thousand 
francs.  After  his  death,  his  representatives  continued 
the  action,  which  I  resisted,  not  only  maintaining  that 
I  owed  none  of  the  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  but 
claiming  to  have  two  hundred  thousand  owing  to  me, 
out  of  six  hundred  thousand  which  had  formed  the 
dowry  of  my  sister. 

When  M.  de  Brissac  died,  there  seemed  some  prob- 
ability that  his  peerage  would  become  extinct;  for  the 
Comte  de  Cosse,  who  claimed  to  succeed  him,  was  op- 
posed by  a  number  of  peers,  and  but  for  me  might  have 
failed  to  establish  his  pretensions.  I,  however,  as  his 
claim  was  just,  interested  myself  in  him,  supported  him 
with  all  my  influence,  and  gained  for  him  the  support 
of  several  influential  peers:  so  that  in  the  end  he  was 
recognised  as  Due  de  Brissac,  and  received  as  such  at 
the  parliament  on  the  6th  of  May,  1700. 

Having  succeeded  thus  to  the  titles  and  estates  of  his 
predecessor,  he  succeeded  also  to  his  liabilities,  debts, 
and  engagements.  Among  these  was  the  trial  against 
me  for  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  Cosse  felt  so 
thoroughly  that  he  owed  his  rank  to  me,  that  he  offered 


IO2  Memoirs  of 

to  give  me  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  so  as  to  in- 
demnify me  against  an  adverse  decision  in  the  cause. 
Now,  as  I  have  said,  I  not  only  resisted  this  demand 
made  upon  me  for  five  hundred  thousand  francs,  but 
I,  in  my  turn,  claimed  two  hundred  thousand  francs, 
and  my  claim,  once  admitted,  all  the  personal  creditors 
of  the  late  Due  de  Brissac  (creditors  who,  of  course,  had 
to  be  paid  by  the  new  Duke),  would  have  been  forced  to 
stand  aside  until  my  debt  was  settled. 

I,  therefore,  refused  this  offer  of  Cosse,  lest  other 
creditors  should  hear  of  the  arrangement,  and  force  him 
to  make  a  similar  one  with  them.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  a  generosity  so  little  expected,  and  we 
became  more  intimately  connected  from  that  day. 

Cosse,  once  received  as  Due  de  Brissac,  I  no  longer 
feared  to  push  forward  the  action  I  had  commenced 
for  the  recovery  of  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs 
due  to  me,  and  which  I  had  interrupted  only  on  his 
account.  I  had  gained  it  twice  running  against  the 
late  Due  de  Brissac,  at  the  parliament  of  Rouen;  but 
the  Duchesse  d'Aumont,  who  in  the  last  years  of  his 
life  had  lent  him  money,  and  whose  debt  was  in  danger, 
succeeded  in  getting  this  cause  sent  up  for  appeal  to  the 
parliament  at  Paris,  where  she  threw  obstacle  upon  ob- 
stacle in  its  path,  and  caused  judgment  to  be  delayed 
month  after  month.  When  I  came  to  take  active  steps 
in  the  matter,  my  surprise— to  use  no  stronger  word 
—was  great,  to  find  Cosse,  after  all  I  had  done  for  him, 
favouring  the  pretensions  of  the  Duchesse  d'Aumont, 
and  lending  her  his  aid  to  establish  them.  However, 
he  and  the  Duchesse  d'Aumont  lost  their  cause,  for 
when  it  was  submitted  to  the  judges  of  the  council  at 


Saint-Simon  103 

Paris,  it  was  sent  back  to  Rouen,  and  they  had  to  pay 
damages  and  expenses. 

For  years  the  affair  had  been  ready  to  be  judged  at 
Rouen,  but  M.  d'Aumont  every  year,  by  means  of  his 
letters  of  state,  obtained  a  postponement.  At  last,  how- 
ever, M.  d'Aumont  died,  and  I  was  assured  that  the 
letters  of  state  should  not  be  again  produced,  and  that 
in  consequence  no  further  adjournment  should  take 
place.  I  and  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  at  once  set  out, 
therefore,  for  Rouen,  where  we  were  exceedingly  well 
received,  fetes  and  entertainments  being  continually 
given  in  our  honour. 

After  we  had  been  there  but  eight  or  ten  days,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Pontchartrain,  who  sent  me  word 
that  the  King  had  learnt  with  surprise  I  was  at  Rouen, 
and  had  charged  him  to  ask  me  why  I  was  there:  so 
attentive  was  the  King  as  to  what  became  of  the  peo- 
ple of  mark,  he  was  accustomed  to  see  around  him! 
My  reply  was  not  difficult. 

Meanwhile  our  cause  proceeded.  The  parliament, 
that  is  to  say,  the  Grand  Chamber,  suspended  all  other 
business  in  order  to  finish  ours.  The  affair  was  already 
far  advanced,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  an  obstacle, 
of  all  obstacles,  the  least  possible  to  foresee.  The  let- 
ters of  state  had  again  been  put  in,  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  another  adjournment. 

My  design  is  not  to  weary  by  recitals,  which  interest 
only  myself;  but  I  must  explain  this  matter  fully.  It 
was  Monday  evening.  The  parliament  of  Rouen  ended 
on  the  following  Saturday.  If  we  waited  until  the 
opening  of  the  next  parliament,  we  should  have  to  be- 
gin our  cause  from  the  beginning,  and  with  new  presi- 


IO4  Memoirs  of 

dents  and  judges,  who  would  know  nothing  of  the  facts. 
What  was  to  be  done?  To  appeal  to  the  King  seemed 
impossible,  for  he  was  at  Marly,  and,  while  there,  never 
listened  to  such  matters.  By  the  time  he  left  Marly, 
it  would  be  too  late  to  apply  to  him. 

Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  others  advised  me, 
however,  at  all  hazards,  to  go  straight  to  the  King,  in- 
stead of  sending  a  courier,  as  I  thought  of  doing,  and 
to  keep  my  journey  secret.  I  followed  their  advice,  and 
setting  out  at  once,  arrived  at  Marly  on  Tuesday  morn- 
ing, the  8th  of  August,  at  eight  of  the  clock.  The 
Chancellor  and  Chamillart,  to  whom  I  told  my  errand, 
pitied  me,  but  gave  me  no  hope  of  success.  Never- 
theless, a  council  of  state  was  to  be  held  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  presided  over  by  the  King,  and  my  peti- 
tion was  laid  before  it.  The  letters  of  state  were 
thrown  out  by  every  voice.  This  information  was 
brought  to  me  at  mid-day.  I  partook  of  a  hasty  din- 
ner, and  turned  back  to  Rouen,  where  I  arrived  on 
Thursday,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  three  hours 
after  a  courier,  by  whom  I  had  sent  this  unhoped-for 
news. 

I  brought  with  me,  besides  the  order  respecting  the 
letters  of  state,  an  order  to  the  parliament  to  proceed  to 
judgment  at  once.  It  was  laid  before  the  judges  very 
early  on  Saturday,  the  nth  of  August,  the  last  day  of 
the  parliament.  From  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  we 
had  an  infinite  number  of  visitors,  wanting  to  accom- 
pany us  to  the  palace.  The  parliament  had  been  much 
irritated  against  these  letters  of  state,  after  having  sus- 
pended all  other  business  for  us.  The  withdrawal  of 
these  letters  was  now  announced.  We  gained  our 


Saint-Simon  105 

cause,  with  penalties  and  expenses,  amid  acclamations 
which  resounded  through  the  court,  and  which  followed 
us  into  the  streets.  We  could  scarcely  enter  our  street, 
so  full  was  it  with  the  crowd,  or  our  house,  which  was 
equally  crowded.  Our  kitchen  chimney  soon  after  took 
fire,  and  it  was  only  a  marvel  that  it  was  extinguished, 
without  damage,  after  having  strongly  warned  us,  and 
turned  our  joy  into  bitterness.  There  was  only  the 
master  of  the  house  who  was  unmoved.  \Ye  dined, 
however,  with  a  grand  company;  and  after  stopping 
one  or  two  days  more  to  thank  our  friends,  we  went  to 
see  the  sea  at  Dieppe,  and  then  to  Cani,  to  a  beautiful 
house  belonging  to  our  host  at  Rouen. 

As  for  Madame  d'Aumont,  she  was  furious  at  the 
ill-success  of  her  affair.  It  was  she  who  had  obtained 
the  letters  of  state  from  the  steward  of  her  son-in-law. 
Her  son-in-law  had  promised  me  that  they  should  not 
be  used,  and  wrote  at  once  to  say  he  had  had  no  hand 
in  their  production.  M.  de  Brissac,  who  had  been 
afraid  to  look  me  in  the  face  ever  since  he  had  taken 
part  in  this  matter,  and  with  whom  I  had  openly  broken, 
was  now  so  much  ashamed  that  he  avoided  me  every- 
where. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

My  Appointment  as  Ambassador  to  Rome — How  it  Fell 
Through — Anecdotes  of  the  Bishop  of  Orleans — A  Droll 
Song — A  Saint  in  Spite  of  Himself — Fashionable  Crimes — 
A  Forged  Genealogy — Abduction  of  Beringhen — The  Par- 
vulos  of  Meudon  and  Mademoiselle  Choin. 

IT  was  just  at  the  commencement  of  the  year  1706, 
that  I  received  a  piece  of  news  which  almost  took 
away  my  breath  by  its  suddenness,  and  by  the  surprise 
it  caused  me.  I  was  on  very  intimate  terms  with  Gual- 
terio,  the  nuncio  of  the  Pope.  Just  about  this  time 
we  were  without  an  ambassador  at  Rome.  The  nun- 
cio spoke  to  me  about  this  post;  but  at  my  age — I  was 
but  thirty— and  knowing  the  unwillingness  of  the  King 
to  employ  young  men  in  public  affairs,  I  paid  no  at- 
tention to  his  words.  Eight  days  afterwards  he  en- 
tered my  chamber — one  Tuesday,  about  an  hour  after 
mid-day — his  arms  open,  joy  painted  upon  his  face, 
and  embracing  me,  told  me  to  shut  my  door,  and  even 
that  of  my  antechamber,  so  that  he  should  not  be  seen. 
I  was  to  go  to  Rome  as  ambassador.  I  made  him  re- 
peat this  twice  over:  it  seemed  so  impossible.  If  one 
of  the  portraits  in  my  chamber  had  spoken  to  me,  I 
could  not  have  been  more  surprised.  Gualterio 
begged  me  to  keep  the  matter  secret,  saying,  that  the 

106 


Saint-Simon  107 

appointment  would  be  officially  announced  to  me  ere 
long. 

I  went  immediately  and"  sought  out  Chamillart,  re- 
proaching him  for  not  having  apprised  me  of  this  good 
news.  He  smiled  at  my  anger,  and  said  that  the  King 
had  ordered  the  news  to  be  kept  secret.  I  admit  that 
I  was  flattered  at  being  chosen  at  my  age  for  an  em- 
bassy so  important.  I  was  advised  on  every  side  to 
accept  it,  and  this  I  determined  to  do.  I  could  not 
understand,  however,  how  it  was  I  had  been  selected. 
Torcy,  years  afterwards,  when  the  King  was  dead,  re- 
lated to  me  how  it  came  about.  At  this  time  I  had  no 
relations  with  Torcy;  it  was  not  until  long  afterwards 
that  friendship  grew  up  between  us. 

He  said,  then,  that  the  embassy  being  vacant,  the 
King  wished  to  fill  up  that  appointment,  and  wished 
also  that  a  Duke  should  be  ambassador.  He  took  an 
almanack  and  began  reading  the  names  of  the  Dukes, 
commencing  with  M.  de  Uzes.  He  made  no  stop  un- 
til he  came  to  my  name.  Then  he  said  (to  Torcy) 
"  What  do  you  think  of  him?  He  is  young,  but  he  is 
good,"  &c.  The  King  after  hearing  a  few  opinions 
expressed  by  those  around  him,  shut  up  the  almanack, 
and  said  it  was  not  worth  while  to  go  farther,  deter- 
mined that  I  should  be  ambassador,  but  ordered  the 
appointment  to  be  kept  secret.  I  learnt  this,  more  than 
ten  years  after  its  occurrence,  from  a  true  man,  who 
had  no  longer  any  interest  or  reason  to  disguise  any- 
thing from  me. 

Advised  on  all  sides  by  my  friends  to  accept  the  post 
offered  to  me,  I  did  not  long  hesitate  to  do  so.  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  gave  me  the  same  advice,  although  she 


io8  Memoirs  of 

herself  was  pained  at  the  idea  of  quitting  her  family.  I 
cannot  refuse  myself  the  pleasure  of  relating  here  what 
the  three  ministers  each  said  of  my  wife,  a  woman  then 
of  only  twenty-seven  years  of  age.  All  three,  unknown 
to  each  other,  and  without  solicitation  on  my  part, 
counselled  me  to  keep  none  of  the  affairs  of  my  em- 
bassy secret  from  her,  but  to  give  her  a  place  at  the  end 
of  the  table  when  I  read  or  wrote  my  despatches,  and 
to  consult  her  with  deference  upon  everything.  I  have 
rarely  so  much  relished  advice  as  I  did  in  this  case. 
Although,  as  things  fell  out,  I  could  not  follow  it  at 
Rome,  I  had  followed  it  long  before,  and  continued  to 
do  so  all  my  life.  I  kept  nothing  secret  from  her,  and 
I  had  good  reason  to  be  pleased  that  I  did  not.  Her 
counsel  was  always  wise,  judicious,  and  useful,  and 
oftentimes  she  warded  off  from  me  many  inconven- 
iences. 

But  to  continue  the  narrative  of  this  embassy.  It 
was  soon  so  generally  known  that  I  wras  going  to  Rome, 
that  as  we  danced  at  Marly,  we  heard  people  say, 
"  Look !  M.  1'Ambassadeur  and  Madame  1'Ambassa- 
drice  are  dancing."  After  this  I  wished  the  announce- 
ment to  be  made  public  as  soon  as  possible,  but  the 
King  was  not  to  be  hurried.  Day  after  day  passed  by, 
and  still  I  was  kept  in  suspense.  At  last,  about  the 
middle  of  April,  I  had  an  interview  with  Chamillart  one 
day,  just  after  he  came  out  of  the  council  at  which  I 
knew  my  fate  had  been  decided.  I  learnt  then  that  the 
King  had  determined  to  send  no  ambassador  to  Rome. 
The  Abbe  dc  La  Tremoille  was  already  there ;  he  had 
been  made  Cardinal,  and  was  to  remain  and  attend  to 
the  affairs  of  the  embassy.  I  found  out  afterwards  that 


Saint-Simon  109 

I  had  reason  to  attribute  to  Madame  de  Maintenon  and 
M.  du  Maine  the  change  in  the  King's  intention  tow- 
ards me.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  was  delighted.  It 
seemed  as  though  she  foresaw  the  strange  discredit  in 
which  the  affairs  of  the  King  were  going  to  fall  in 
Italy,  the  embarrassment  and  the  disorder  that  public 
misfortunes  would  cause  the  finances,  and  the  cruel 
situation  in  which  all  things  would  have  reduced  us  at 
Rome.  As  for  me,  I  had  had  so  much  leisure  to  con- 
sole myself  beforehand,  that  I  had  need  of  no  more. 
I  felt,  however,  that  I  had  now  lost  all  favour  with  the 
King,  and,  indeed,  he  estranged  himself  from  me  more 
and  more  each  day.  By  what  means  I  recovered  my- 
self it  is  not  yet  time  to  tell. 

On  the  night  between  the  3rd  and  4th  of  February, 
Cardinal  Coislin,  Bishop  of  Orleans,  died.  He  was  a 
little  man,  very  fat,  who  looked  like  a  village  curate. 
His  purity  of  manners  and  his  virtues  caused  him  to  be 
much  loved.  Two  good  actions  of  his  life  deserve  to 
be  remembered. 

When,  after  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes, 
the  King  determined  to  convert  the  Huguenots  by 
means  of  dragoons  and  torture,  a  regiment  was  sent  to 
Orleans,  to  be  spread  abroad  in  the  diocese.  As  soon 
as  it  arrived,  M.  d'Orleans  sent  word  to  the  officers  that 
they  might  make  his  house  their  home;  that  their 
horses  should  be  lodged  in  his  stables.  He  begged 
them  not  to  allow  a  single  one  of  their  men  to  leave  the 
town,  to  make  the  slightest  disorder;  to  say  no  word 
to  the  Huguenots,  and  not  to  lodge  in  their  houses. 
He  resolved  to  be  obeyed,  and  he  was.  The  regiment 
stayed  a  month,  and  cost  him  a  good  deal.  At  the 


1 10  Memoirs  of 

end  of  that  time  he  so  managed  matters  that  the  soldiers 
were  sent  away,  and  none  came  again.  This  conduct, 
so  full  of  charity,  so  opposed  to  that  of  nearly  all  the 
other  dioceses,  gained  as  many  Huguenots  as  were 
gained  by  the  barbarities  they  suffered  elsewhere.  It 
needed  some  courage,  to  say  nothing  of  generosity,  to 
act  thus,  and  to  silently  blame,  as  it  were,  the  conduct 
of  the  King. 

The  other  action  of  M.  d'Orleans  was  less  public  and 
less  dangerous,  but  was  not  less  good.  He  secretly 
gave  away  many  alms  to  the  poor,  in  addition  to  those 
he  gave  publicly.  Among  those  whom  he  succoured 
was  a  poor,  broken-down  gentleman,  without  wife  or 
child,  to  whom  he  gave  four  hundred  livres  of  pension, 
and  a  place  at  his  table  whenever  he  was  at  Orleans. 
One  morning  the  servants  of  M.  d'Orleans  told  their 
master  that  ten  pieces  of  plate  were  missing,  and  that 
suspicion  fell  upon  the  gentleman.  M.  d'Orleans  could 
not  believe  him  guilty,  but  as  he  did  not  make  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  house  for  several  days,  was  forced  at 
last  to  imagine  he  was  so.  Upon  this  he  sent  for  the 
gentleman,  who  admitted  himself  to  be  the  offender. 
M.  d'Orleans  said  he  must  have  been  strangely  pressed 
to  commit  an  action  of  this  nature,  and  reproached  him 
for  not  having  mentioned  his  wants.  Then,  drawing 
twenty  louis  from  his  pocket,  he  gave  them  to  the  gen- 
tleman, told  him  to  forget  what  had  occurred,  and  to 
use  his  table  as  before.  M.  d'Orleans  prohibited  his 
servants  to  mention  their  suspicions,  and  this  anecdote 
would  never  have  been  known,  had  it  not  been  told  by 
the  gentleman  himself,  penetrated  with  confusion  and 
gratitude. 


Saint-Simon  in 

M.  d'Orleans,  after  he  became  cardinal,  was  often 
pressed  by  his  friends  to  give  up  his  bishopric.  But 
this  he  would  not  listen  to.  The  King  had  for  him  a 
respect  that  was  almost  devotion.  When  Madame  de 
Bourgogne  was  about  to  be  delivered  of  her  first  child, 
the  King  sent  a  courier  to  M.  d'Orleans  requesting  him 
to  come  to  Court  immediately,  and  to  remain  there  un- 
til after  the  delivery.  When  the  child  was  born,  the 
King  would  not  allow  it  to  be  sprinkled  by  any  other 
hand  than  that  of  M.  d'Orleans.  The  poor  man,  very 
fat,  as  I  have  said,  always  sweated  very  much ;  on  this 
occasion,  wrapped  up  in  his  cloak  and  his  lawn,  his  body 
ran  with  sweat  in  such  abundance,  that  in  the  ante- 
chamber the  floor  was  wet  all  round  where  he  stood. 
All  the  Court  was  much  afflicted  at  his  death;  the  King 
more  than  anybody  spoke  his  praises.  It  was  known 
after  his  death,  from  his  t'alet  de  chainbre,  that  he  mor- 
tified himself  continually  with  instruments  of  penitence, 
and  that  he  rose  every  night  and  passed  an  hour  on  his 
knees  in  prayer.  He  received  the  sacraments  with 
great  piety,  and  died  the  night  following  as  he  had 
lived. 

Heudicourt  the  younger,  a  species  of  very  mis- 
chievous satyr,  and  much  mixed  up  in  grand  intrigues 
of  gallantry,  made,  about  this  time,  a  song  upon  the 
grand  prcrot  and  his  family.  It  was  so  simple,  so  true 
to  nature,  withal  so  pleasant,  that  some  one  having 
whispered  it  in  the  ear  of  the  Marechal  de  BoufHers  at 
chapel,  he  could  not  refrain  from  bursting  into  laugh- 
ter, although  he  was  in  attendance  at  the  mass  of  the 
King.  The  Marechal  was  the  gravest  and  most  serious 
man  in  all  France;  the  greatest  slave  to  decorum.  The 


112  Memoirs  of 

King  turned  round  therefore  in  surprise,  which  aug- 
mented considerably  when  he  saw  the  Marechal  de 
Boufflers  nigh  to  bursting  with  laughter,  and  the  tears 
running  down  his  cheeks.  On  returning  into  his  cabi- 
net, he  called  the  Marechal,  and  asked  what  had  put 
him  in  that  state  at  the  mass.  The  Marechal  repeated 
the  song  to  him.  Thereupon  the  King  burst  out  louder 
than  the  Marechal  had,  and  for  a  whole  fortnight  after- 
wards could  not  help  smiling  whenever  he  saw  the 
grand  prci'dt  or  any  of  his  family.  The  song  soon 
spread  about,  and  much  diverted  the  Court  and  the 
town. 

I  should  particularly  avoid  soiling  this  page  with  an 
account  of  the  operation  for  fistula  which  Courcillon, 
only  son  of  Dangeau,  had  performed  upon  him,  but  for 
the  extreme  ridicule  with  which  it  was  accompanied. 
Courcillon  was  a  dashing  young  fellow,  much  given  to 
witty  sayings,  to  mischief,  to  impiety,  and  to  the  filthi- 
est debauchery,  of  which  latter,  indeed,  this  operation 
passed  publicly  as  the  fruit.  His  mother,  Madame 
Dangeau,  was  in  the  strictest  intimacy  with  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  They  two  alone,  of  all  the  Court,  were 
ignorant  of  the  life  Courcillon  led.  Madame  was  much 
afflicted;  and  quitted  his  bed-side,  even  for  a  moment, 
with  pain.  Madame  de  Maintenon  entered  into  her 
sorrow,  and  went  every  day  to  bear  her  company  at  the 
pillow  of  Courcillon.  Madame  d'Heudicourt,  another 
intimate  friend  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  was  admit- 
ted there  also,  but  scarcely  anybody  else.  Courcillon 
listened  to  them,  spoke  devotionally  to  them,  and  ut- 
tered the  reflections  suggested  by  his  state.  They,  all 
admiration,  published  everywhere  that  he  was  a  saint. 


Saint-Simon  113 

Madame  d'Heudicourt  and  a  few  others  who  listened 
to  these  discourses,  and  who  knew  the  pilgrim  well, 
and  saw  him  loll  out  his  tongue  at  them  on  the  sly, 
knew  not  what  to  do  to  prevent  their  laughter,  and  as 
soon  as  they  could  get  away  went  and  related  all  they 
had  heard  to  their  friends.  Courcillon,  who  thought 
it  a  mighty  honour  to  have  Madame  de  Maintenon 
every  day  for  nurse,  but  who,  nevertheless,  was  dying 
of  weariness,  used  to  see  his  friends  in  the  evening 
(when  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  his  mother  were 
gone),  and  would  relate  to  them,  with  burlesque  exag- 
geration, all  the  miseries  he  had  suffered  during  the 
day,  and  ridicule  the  devotional  discourses  he  had 
listened  to.  All  the  time  his  illness  lasted,  Madame  de 
Maintenon  came  every  day  to  see  him,  so  that  her  cre- 
dulity, which  no  one  dared  to  enlighten,  was  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  the  Court.  She  conceived  such  a  high 
opinion  of  the  virtue  of  Courcillon,  that  she  cited  him 
always  as  an  example,  and  the  King  also  formed  the 
same  opinion.  Courcillon  took  good  care  not  to  try 
and  cultivate  it  when  he  became  cured;  yet  neither  the 
King  nor  Madame  de  Maintenon  opened  their  eyes, 
or  changed  their  conduct  towards  him.  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  it  must  be  said,  except  in  the  sublime  in- 
trigue of  her  government  and  with  the  King,  was  al- 
ways the  queen  of  dupes. 

It  would  seem  that  there  are,  at  certain  times, 
fashions  in  crimes  as  in  clothes.  At  the  period  of  the 
Yoysins  and  the  Brinvilliers,  there  were  nothing  but 
poisoners  abroad;  and  against  these,  a  court  was  ex- 
pressly instituted,  called  ardcntc,  because  it  condemned 
them  to  the  flames.  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  now 
VOL.  II.— 3 


1 14  Memoirs  of 

speaking,  1703,  for  I  forgot  to  relate  what  follows  in 
its  proper  place,  forgers  of  writings  were  in  the  ascen- 
dant, and  became  so  common,  that  a  chamber  was  es- 
tablished composed  of  councillors  of  state  and  others, 
solely  to  judge  the  accusations  which  this  sort  of  crim- 
inals gave  rise  to. 

The  Bouillons  wished  to  be  recognised  as  descended, 
by  male  issue,  of  the  Counts  of  Auvergne,  and  to  claim 
all  kinds  of  distinctions  and  honours  in  consequence. 
They  had,  however,  no  proofs  of  this,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, their  genealogy  proved  it  to  be  false.  All  on  a 
sudden,  an  old  document  that  had  been  interred  in  the 
obscurity  of  ages  in  the  church  of  Brioude,  was  pre- 
sented to  Cardinal  Bouillon.  It  had  all  the  marks  of 
antiquity,  and  contained  a  triumphant  proof  of  the  de- 
scent of  the  house  of  La  Tour,  to  which  the  Bouillons 
belonged,  from  the  ancient  Counts  of  Auvergne.  The 
Cardinal  was  delighted  to  have  in  his  hands  this  pre- 
cious document.  But  to  avoid  all  suspicion,  he  affected 
modesty,  and  hesitated  to  give  faith  to  evidence  so  de- 
cisive. He  spoke  in  confidence  to  all  the  learned  men 
he  knew,  and  begged  them  to  examine  the  document 
with  care,  so  that  he  might  not  be  the  dupe  of  a  too 
easy  belief  in  it. 

Whether  the  examiners  were  deceived  by  the  docu- 
ment, or  whether  they  allowed  themselves  to  be  seduced 
into  believing  it,  as  is  more  than  probable,  from  fear  of 
giving  offence  to  the  Cardinal,  need  not  be  discussed. 
It  is  enough  to  say  that  they  pronounced  in  favour  of 
the  deed,  and  that  Father  Mabillon,  that  Benedictine  so 
well  known  throughout  all  Europe  by  his  sense  and 
his  candour,  was  led  by  the  others  to  share  their  opinion. 


Saint-Simon  115 

After  this,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  no  longer  affected 
any  doubt  about  the  authenticity  of  the  discovery.  All 
his  friends  complimented  him  upon  it,  the  majority  to 
see  how  he  would  receive  their  congratulations.  It  was 
a  chaos  rather  than  a  mixture,  of  vanity  the  most  out- 
rageous, modesty  the  most  affected,  and  joy  the  most 
immoderate  which  he  could  not  restrain. 

Unfortunately,  De  Bar,  who  had  found  the  precious 
document,  and  who  had  presented  it  to  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon,  was  arrested  and  put  in  prison  a  short  time 
after  this,  charged  with  many  forgeries.  This  event 
made  some  stir,  and  caused  suspicion  to  fall  upon 
the  document,  which  was  now  attentively  examined 
through  many  new  spectacles.  Learned  men  unac- 
quainted with  the  Bouillons  contested  it,  and  De  Bar 
was  so  pushed  upon  this  point,  that  he  made  many 
delicate  admissions.  Alarm  at  once  spread  among  the 
Bouillons.  They  did  all  in  their  power  to  ward  off 
the  blow  that  was  about  to  fall.  Seeing  the  tribunal 
firm,  and  fully  resolved  to  follow  the  affair  to  the  end, 
they  openly  solicited  for  De  Bar,  and  employed  all 
their  credit  to  gain  his  liberation.  At  last,  rinding  the 
tribunal  inflexible,  they  were  reduced  to  take  an  ex- 
treme resolution.  M.  de  Bouillon  admitted  to  the 
King,  that  his  brother,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon,  might, 
unknown  to  all  of  them,  have  brought  forward  facts 
he  could  not  prove.  He  added,  that  putting  himself 
in  the  King's  hands,  he  begged  that  the  affair  might 
be  stopped  at  once,  out  of  consideration  for  those 
whose  only  guilt  was  too  great  credulity,  and  too  much 
confidence  in  a  brother  who  had  deceived  them.  The 
King,  with  more  of  friendship  for  M.  de  Bouillon  than 


ii6  Memoirs  of 

of  reflection  as  to  what  he  owed  by  way  of  reparation 
for  a  public  offence,  agreed  to  this  course. 

De  Bar,  convicted  of  having  fabricated  this  docu- 
ment, by  his  own  admission  before  the  public  tribunal, 
was  not  condemned  to  death,  but  to  perpetual  im- 
prisonment. As  may  be  believed,  this  adventure  made 
a  great  stir ;  but  what  cannot  be  believed  so  easily  is, 
the  conduct  of  the  Messieurs  Bouillon  about  fifteen 
months  afterwards. 

At  the  time  when  the  false  document  above  referred 
to  was  discovered,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  had  commis- 
sioned Baluze,  a  man  much  given  to  genealogical 
studies,  to  write  the  history  of  the  house  of  Auvergne. 
In  this  history,  the  descent,  by  male  issue,  of  the 
Bouillons  from  the  Counts  of  Auvergne,  was  estab- 
lished upon  the  evidence  supplied  by  this  document. 
At  least,  nobody  doubted  that  such  was  the  case,  and 
the  world  was  strangely  scandalised  to  see  the  \vork 
appear  after  that  document  had  been  pronounced  to  be 
a  forgery.  Many  learned  men  and  friends  of  Baluze 
considered  him  so  dishonoured  by  it,  that  they  broke 
off  all  relations  with  him,  and  this  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  confusion  of  this  affair. 

On  Thursday,  the  /th  of  March,  1707,  a  strange 
event  troubled  the  King,  and  filled  the  Court  and  the 
town  with  rumours.  Beringhen,  first  master  of  the 
horse,  left  Versailles  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  of 
that  day,  to  go  to  Paris,  alone  in  one  of  the  King's 
coaches,  two  of  the  royal  footmen  behind,  and  a  groom 
carrying  a  torch  before  him  on  the  seventh  horse.  The 
carriage  had  reached  the  plain  of  Bissancourt,  and  was 
passing  between  a  farm  on  the  road  near  Sevres  bridge 


Saint-Simon  117 

and  a  cabaret,  called  the  "  Dawn  of  Day,"  when  it  was 
stopped  by  fifteen  or  sixteen  men  on  horseback,  who 
seized  on  Beringhen,  hurried  him  into  a  post-chaise  in 
waiting,  and  drove  off  with  him.  The  King's  carriage, 
with  the  coachman,  footmen,  and  groom,  was  allowed 
to  go  back  to  Versailles.  As  soon  as  it  reached  Ver- 
sailles the  King  was  informed  of  what  had  taken  place. 
He  sent  immediately  to  his  four  Secretaries  of  State, 
ordering  them  to  send  couriers  everywhere  to  the 
frontiers,  with  instructions  to  the  governors  to  guard 
all  the  passages,  so  that  if  these  horsemen  were  for- 
eign enemies,  as  was  suspected,  they  would  be  caught 
in  attempting  to  pass  out  of  the  kingdom.  It  was 
known  that  a  party  of  the  enemy  had  entered  Artois, 
that  they  had  committed  no  disorders,  but  that  they 
were  there  still.  Although  people  found  it  difficult,  at 
first,  to  believe  that  Beringhen  had  been  carried  off  by 
a  party  such  as  this,  yet  as  it  was  known  that  he  had 
no  enemies,  that  he  was  not  reputed  sufficiently  rich 
to  afford  hope  of  a  large  ransom,  and  that  not  one  of 
our  wealthiest  financiers  had  been  seized  in  this  man- 
ner, this  explanation  was  at  last  accepted  as  the  right 
one. 

So  in  fact  it  proved.  A  certain  Guetem,  a  fiddler  of 
the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  had  entered  the  service  of  Hol- 
land, had  taken  part  in  the  war  against  France,  and 
had  become  a  colonel.  Chatting  one  evening  with  his 
comrades,  he  laid  a  wager  that  he  would  carry  off  some 
one  of  mark  between  Paris  and  Versailles.  He  ob- 
tained a  passport,  and  thirty  chosen  men,  nearly  all 
of  whom  were  officers.  They  passed  the  rivers  dis- 
guised as  traders,  by  which  means  they  were  enabled 


ii8  Memoirs  of 

to  post  their  relays  [of  horses].  Several  of  them  had 
remained  seven  or  eight  days  at  Sevres,  Saint  Cloud, 
and  Boulogne,  from  which  they  had  the  hardihood  to 
go  to  Versailles  and  see  the  King  sup.  One  of  these 
was  caught  on  the  day  after  the  disappearance  of 
Beringhen,  and  when  interrogated  by  Chamillart,  re- 
plied with  a  tolerable  amount  of  impudence.  Another 
was  caught  in  the  forest  of  Chantilly  by  one  of  the  ser- 
vants of  M.  le  Prince.  From  him  it  became  known 
that  relays  of  horses  and  a  post-chaise  had  been  pro- 
vided at  Morliere  for  the  prisoner  when  he  should  ar- 
rive there,  and  that  he  had  already  passed  the  Oise. 

As  I  have  said,  couriers  were  despatched  to  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  frontiers ;  in  addition  to  this,  informa- 
tion of  what  had  taken  place  wras  sent  to  all  the  in- 
tendants  of  the  frontier,  to  all  the  troops  in  quarters 
there.  Several  of  the  King's  guards,  too,  and  the 
grooms  of  the  stable,  went  in  pursuit  of  the  captors  of 
Beringhen.  Notwithstanding  the  diligence  used,  the 
horsemen  had  traversed  the  Somme  and  had  gone  four 
leagues  beyond  Ham — Beringhen,  guarded  by  the  of- 
ficers, and  pledged  to  offer  no  resistance — when  the 
party  was  stopped  by  a  quartermaster  and  two  de- 
tachments of  the  Livry  regiment.  Beringhen  was  at 
once  set  at  liberty.  Guetem  and  his  companions  were 
made  prisoners. 

The  grand  fault  they  had  committed  was  to  allow 
the  King's  carriage  and  the  footmen  to  go  back  to  Ver- 
sailles so  soon  after  the  abduction.  Had  they  led 
away  the  coach  under  cover  of  the  night,  and  so  kept 
the  King  in  ignorance  of  their  doings  until  the  next 
day,  they  would  have  had  more  time  for  their  retreat. 


Saint-Simon  119 

Instead  of  doing  this  they  fatigued  themselves  by  too 
much  haste.  They  had  grown  tired  of  waiting  for  a 
carriage  that  seemed  likely  to  contain  somebody  of 
mark.  The  Chancellor  had  passed,  but  in  broad  day- 
light, and  they  were  afraid  in  consequence  to  stop  him. 
M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  had  passed,  but  in  a  post-chaise, 
which  they  mistrusted.  At  last  Beringhen  appeared 
in  one  of  the  King's  coaches,  attended  by  servants  in 
the  King's  livery,  and  wearing  his  cordon  bleu,  as  was 
his  custom.  They  thought  they  had  found  a  prize  in- 
deed. They  soon  learnt  with  whom  they  had  to  deal, 
and  told  him  also  who  they  were.  Guetem  bestowed 
upon  Beringhen  all  kinds  of  attention,  and  testified  a 
great  desire  to  spare  him  as  much  as  possible  all  fa- 
tigue. He  pushed  his  attentions  so  far  that  they 
caused  his  failure.  He  allowed  Beringhen  to  stop  and 
rest  on  two  occasions.  The  party  missed  one  of  their 
relays,  and  that  delayed  them  very  much. 

Beringhen,  delighted  with  his  rescue,  and  very  grate- 
ful for  the  good  treatment  he  had  received,  changed 
places  with  Guetem  and  his  companions,  led  them  to 
Ham,  and  in  his  turn  treated  them  well.  He  wrote  to 
his  wife  and  to  Chamillart  announcing  his  release,  and 
these  letters  were  read  with  much  satisfaction  by  the 
King. 

On  Tuesday,  the  2Qth  of  March,  Beringhen  arrived 
at  Versailles,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
went  at  once  to  the  King,  who  was  in  the  apartments 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  who  received  him  well, 
and  made  him  relate  all  his  adventures.  But  the  King 
was  not  pleased  when  he  found  the  officers  of  the 
stable  in  a  state  of  great  delight,  and  preparing  fire- 


I2O  Memoirs  of 

works  to  welcome  Beringhen  back.  He  prohibited  all 
these  marks  of  rejoicing,  and  would  not  allow  the  fire- 
works to  be  let  off.  He  had  these  little  jealousies.  He 
wished  that  all  should  be  devoted  to  him  alone,  with- 
out reserve  and  without  division.  All  the  Court,  how- 
ever, showed  interest  in  this  return,  and  Beringhen 
was  consoled  by  the  public  welcome  he  received  for 
his  fatigue. 

Guetem  and  his  officers,  while  waiting  the  pleasure 
of  the  King,  were  lodged  in  Beringhen's  house  in 
Paris,  where  they  were  treated  above  their  deserts. 
Beringhen  obtained  permission  for  Guetem  to  see  the 
King.  He  did  more ;  he  presented  Guetem  to  the 
King,  who  praised  him  for  having  so  well  treated  his 
prisoner,  and  said  that  war  always  ought  to  be  con- 
ducted properly.  Guetem,  who  was  not  without  wit, 
replied,  that  he  was  so  astonished  to  find  himself  be- 
fore the  greatest  King  in  the  world,  and  to  find  that 
King  doing  him  the  honour  of  speaking  to  him,  that 
he  had  not  power  enough  to  answer.  He  remained  ten 
or  twelve  days  in  Beringhen's  house  to  see  Paris,  the 
Opera  and  the  Comedy,  and  became  the  talk  of  the 
town.  People  ran  after  him  everywhere,  and  the  most 
distinguished  were  not  ashamed  to  do  likewise.  On 
all  sides  he  was  applauded  for  an  act  of  temerity,  which 
might  have  passed  for  insolence.  Beringhen  regaled 
him,  furnished  him  with  carriages  and  servants  to  ac- 
company him,  and,  at  parting,  with  money  and  con- 
siderable presents.  Guetem  went  on  his  parole  to 
Rheims  to  rejoin  his  comrades  until  exchanged,  and 
had  the  town  for  prison.  Nearly  all  the  others  had 
escaped.  The  project  was  nothing  less  than  to  carry 
off  Monseigneur,  or  one  of  the  princes,  his  sons. 


Saint-Simon  121 

This  ridiculous  adventure  gave  rise  to  precautions, 
excessive  in  the  first  place,  and  which  caused  sad  ob- 
structions of  bridges  and  gates.  It  caused,  too,  a  num- 
ber of  people  to  be  arrested.  The  hunting  parties  of 
the  princes  were  for  some  time  interfered  with,  until 
matters  resumed  their  usual  course.  But  it  was  not 
bad  fun  to  see,  during  some  time,  the  terror  of  ladies, 
and  even  of  men,  of  the  Court,  who  no  longer  dared 
go  abroad  except  in  broad  daylight,  even  then  with 
little  assurance,  and  imagining  themselves  everywhere 
in  marvellous  danger  of  capture. 

I  have  related  in  its  proper  place  the  adventure  of 
Madame  la  Princesse  de  Conti  with  Mademoiselle 
Choin  and  the  attachment  of  Monseigneur  for  the  lat- 
ter. This  attachment  was  only  augmented  by  the  dif- 
ficulty of  seeing  each  other. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  retired  to  the  house  of  Lacroix, 
one  of  her  relatives  at  Paris,  where  she  lived  quite 
hidden.  She  was  informed  of  the  rare  days  when  Mon- 
seigneur dined  alone  at  Meudon,  without  sleeping 
there.  She  went  there  the  day  before  in  a  fiacre,  passed 
through  the  courts  on  foot,  ill  clad,  like  a  common  sort 
of  woman  going  to  see  some  officer  at  Meudon,  and, 
by  a  back  staircase,  was  admitted  to  Monseigneur  who 
passed  some  hours  with  her  in  a  little  apartment  on 
the  first  floor.  In  time  she  came  there  with  a  lady's- 
maid,  her  parcel  in  her  pocket,  on  the  evenings  of  the 
days  that  Monseigneur  slept  there.  She  remained  in 
this  apartment  without  seeing  anybody,  attended  by 
her  lady's-maid,  and  waited  upon  by  a  servant  who 
alone  was  in  the  secret. 

Little  by  little  the  friends  of  Monseigneur  were  al- 


122  Memoirs  of 

lowed  to  see  her ;  and  amongst  these  were  M.  le  Prince 
de  Conti,  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  M.  le  Due  de 
Berry.  There  was  always,  however,  an  air  of  mystery 
about  the  matter.  The  parties  that  took  place  were 
kept  secret,  although  frequent,  and  were  called  par- 
vulos. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  remained  in  her  little  apart- 
ment only  for  the  convenience  of  Monseigneur.  She 
slept  in  the  bed  and  in  the  grand  apartment  where  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  lodged  when  the 
King  was  at  Meudon.  She  always  sat  in  an  arm-chair 
before  Monseigneur ;  Madame  de  Bourgogne  sat  on  a 
stool.  Mademoiselle  Choin  never  rose  for  her ;  in 
speaking  of  her,  even  before  Monseigneur  and  the 
company,  she  used  to  say  "  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne," and  lived  with  her  as  Madame  de  Maintenon 
did  excepting  that  "  darling  "  and  "  my  aunt,"  were 
terms  not  exchanged  between  them,  and  that  Madame 
de  Bourgogne  was  not  nearly  so  free,  or  so  much  at 
her  ease,  as  with  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
Monsieur  de  Bourgogne  was  much  in  restraint.  His 
manners  did  not  agree  with  those  of  that  world.  Mon- 
seigneur le  Due  de  Berry,  who  was  more  free,  was  quite 
at  home. 

Mademoiselle  Choin  went  on  fete-days  to  hear  mass 
in  the  chapel  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  well 
wrapped  up,  and  took  her  meals  alone,  when  Mon- 
seigneur did  not  eat  with  her.  When  he  was  alone  wTith 
her,  the  doors  were  all  guarded  and  barricaded  to  keep 
out  intruders.  People  regarded  her  as  being  to  Mon- 
seigneur, what  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  to  the  King. 


Saint-Simon  123 

All  the  batteries  for  the  future  were  directed  and 
pointed  towards  her.  People  schemed  to  gain  permis- 
sion to  visit  her  at  Paris ;  people  paid  court  to  her 
friends  and  acquaintances,  Monseigneuf  le  Due  de 
Bourgogne  sought  to  please  her,  was  respectful  to  her, 
attentive  to  her  friends,  not  always  with  success.  She 
acted  towards  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  like 
a  mother-in-law,  and  sometimes  spoke  with  such  au- 
thority and  bluntness  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne  as 
to  make  her  cry. 

The  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  were  in  no 
way  ignorant  of  all  this,  but  they  held  their  tongues, 
and  all  the  Court  who  knew  it,  spoke  only  in  whispers 
of  it.  This  is  enough  for  the  present ;  it  will  serve  to 
explain  many  things,  of  which  I  shall  speak  anon. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Death  and  Last  Days  of  Madame  de  Montespan — Selfishness 
of  the  King — Death  and  Character  of  Madame  de  Nemours 
— Neufchatel  and  Prussia  —  Campaign  of  Villars  —  Naval 
Successes — Inundations  of  the  Loire — Siege  of  Toulon — A 
Quarrel  about  News — Quixotic  Despatches  of  Tesse. 

ON  Wednesday,  the  2/th  of  May,  1707,  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  Madame  de  Montespan, 
aged  sixty,  died  very  suddenly  at  the  waters  of  Bour- 
bon. Her  death  made  much  stir,  although  she  had 
long  retired  from  the  Court  and  from  the  world,  and 
preserved  no  trace  of  the  commanding  influence  she 
had  so  long  possessed.  I  need  not  go  back  beyond 
my  own  experience,  and  to  the  time  of  her  reign  as 
mistress  of  the  King.  I  will  simply  say,  because  the 
anecdote  is  little  known,  that  her  conduct  was  more 
the  fault  of  her  husband  than  her  own.  She  warned 
him  as  soon  as  she  suspected  the  King  to  be  in  love 
with  her ;  and  told  him  when  there  was  no  longer  any 
doubt  upon  her  mind.  She  assured  him  that  a  great 
entertainment  that  the  King  gave  was  in  her  honour. 
She  pressed  him,  she  entreated  him  in  the  most  elo- 
quent manner,  to  take  her  away  to  his  estates  of 
Guyenne,  and  leave  her  there  until  the  King  had  for- 
gotten her  or  chosen  another  mistress.  It  was  all  to 

124 


Saint-Simon  125 

no  purpose ;  and  Montespan  was  not  long  before  re- 
pentance seized  him  ;  for  his  torment  was  that  he  loved 
her  all  his  life,  and  died  still  in  love  with  her — although 
he  would  never  consent  to  see  her  again  a'fter  the  first 
scandal. 

Nor  will  I  speak  of  the  divers  degrees  which  the 
fear  of  the  devil  at  various  times  put  to  her  separa- 
tion from  the  Court ;  and  I  will  elsewhere  speak  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  owed  her  everything,  who 
fed  her  on  serpents,  and  who  at  last  ousted  her  from  the 
Court.  What  no  one  dared  to  say,  what  the  King 
himself  dared  not,  M.  du  Maine,  her  son,  dared.  M. 
de  Meaux  (Bossuet)  did  the  rest.  She  went  in  tears 
and  fury,  and  never  forgave  M.  du  Maine,  who  by  his 
strange  service  gained  over  for  ever  to  his  interests 
the  heart  and  the  mighty  influence  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon. 

The  mistress,  retired  amongst  the  Community  of 
Saint  Joseph,  which  she  had  built,  was  long  in  accus- 
toming herself  to  it.  She  carried  about  her  idleness  and 
unhappiness  to  Bourbon,  to  Fontevrault,  to  D'Antin ; 
she  was  many  years  without  succeeding  in  obtaining 
mastery  over  herself.  At  last  God  touched  her.  Her 
sin  had  never  been  accompanied  by  forgetfulness ;  she 
used  often  to  leave  the  King  to  go  and  pray  in  her 
cabinet ;  nothing  could  ever  make  her  evade  any  fast- 
day  or  meagre  day ;  her  austerity  in  fasting  continued 
amidst  all  her  dissipation.  She  gave  alms,  was  es- 
teemed by  good  people,  never  gave  way  to  doubt  or 
impiety ;  but  she  was  imperious,  haughty  and  over- 
bearing, full  of  mockery,  and  of  all  the  qualities  by 
which  beauty  with  the  power  it  bestows  is  naturally 


126  Memoirs  of 

accompanied.  Being  resolved  at  last  to  take  advantage 
of  an  opportunity  which  had  been  given  her  against 
her  will,  she  put  herself  in  the  hands  of  Pere  de  la  Tour, 
that  famous  General  of  the  Oratory.  From  that  mo- 
ment to  the  time  of  her  death  her  conversion  continued 
steadily,  and  her  penitence  augmented.  She  had  first 
to  get  rid  of  the  secret  fondness  she  still  entertained 
for  the  Court,  even  of  the  hopes  which,  however  chi- 
merical, had  always  flattered  her.  She  was  persuaded 
that  nothing  but  the  fear  of  the  devil  had  forced  the 
King  to  separate  himself  from  her,  that  it  was  nothing 
but  this  fear  that  had  raised  Madame  de  Maintenon 
to  the  height  she  had  attained  ;  that  age  and  ill-health, 
which  she  was  pleased  to  imagine,  would  soon  clear 
the  way ;  that  when  the  King  was  a  widower,  she  be- 
ing a  widow,  nothing  would  oppose  their  reunion, 
which  might  easily  be  brought  about  by  their  affection 
for  their  children.  These  children  entertained  similar 
hopes,  and  were  therefore  assiduous  in  their  attention 
to  her  for  some  time. 

Pere  de  la  Tour  made  her  perform  a  terrible  act  of 
penitence.  It  was  to  ask  pardon  of  her  husband,  and 
to  submit  herself  to  his  commands.  To  all  who  knew 
Madame  de  Montespan  this  will  seem  the  most  heroic 
sacrifice.  M.  de  Montespan,  however,  imposed  no  re- 
straint upon  his  wife.  He  sent  word  that  he  wished 
in  no  way  to  interfere  with  her,  or  even  to  see  her.  She 
experienced  no  further  trouble,  therefore,  on  this  score. 

Little  by  little  she  gave  almost  all  she  had  to  the 
poor.  She  worked  for  them  several  hours  a  day,  mak- 
ing stout  shirts  and  such  things  for  them.  Her  table, 
that  she  had  loved  to  excess,  became  the  most  frugal ; 


Saint-Simon  127 

her  fasts  multiplied  ;  she  would  interrupt  her  meals  in 
order  to  go  and  pray.  Her  mortifications  were  con- 
tinued ;  her  chemises  and  her  sheets  were  of  rough 
linen,  of  the  hardest  and  thickest  kind,  but  hidden 
under  others  of  ordinary  kind.  She  unceasingly  wore 
bracelets,  garters,  and  a  girdle,  all  armed  with  iron 
points,  which  oftentimes  inflicted  wounds  upon  her ; 
and  her  tongue,  formerly  so  dangerous,  had  also  its 
peculiar  penance  imposed  on  it.  She  was,  moreover, 
so  tormented  with  the  fear  of  death,  that  she  em- 
ployed several  women,  whose  sole  occupation  was  to 
watch  her.  She  went  to  sleep  with  all  the  curtains  of 
her  bed  open,  many  lights  in  her  chamber,  and  her 
women  around  her.  \Yhenever  she  awoke  she  wished 
to  find  them  chatting,  playing,  or  enjoying  themselves, 
so  as  to  re-assure  herself  against  their  drowsiness. 

With  all  this  she  could  never  throw  off  the  manners 
of  a  queen.  She  had  an  arm-chair  in  her  chamber 
with  its  back  turned  to  the  foot  of  the  bed.  There  was 
no  other  in  the  chamber,  not  even  when  her  natural 
children  came  to  see  her,  not  even  for  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse  d'Orleans.  She  was  oftentimes  visited  by  the 
most  distinguished  people  of  the  Court,  and  she  spoke 
like  a  queen  to  all.  She  treated  everybody  with  much 
respect,  and  was  treated  so  in  turn.  I  have  mentioned 
in  its  proper  place,  that  a  short  time  before  her  death, 
the  King  gave  her  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  buy 
an  estate  ;  but  this  present  was  not  gratis,  for  she  had 
to  send  back  a  necklace  worth  a  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand, to  which  the  King  made  additions,  and  bestowed 
it  on  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 

The  last  time  Madame  de  Montespan  went  to  Bour- 


128  Memoirs  of 

bon  she  paid  all  her  charitable  pensions  and  gratuities 
two  years  in  advance  and  doubled  her  alms.  Although 
in  good  health  she  had  a  presentiment  that  she  should 
return  no  more.  This  presentiment,  in  effect,  proved 
correct.  She  felt  herself  so  ill  one  night,  although  she 
had  been  very  well  just  before,  that  she  confessed  her- 
self, and  received  the  sacrament.  Previous  to  this  she 
called  all  her  servants  into  her  room  and  made  a  public 
confession  of  her  public  sins,  asking  pardon  for  the 
scandal  she  had  caused  with  a  humility  so  decent,  so 
profound,  so  penitent,  that  nothing  could  be  more  edi- 
fying. She  received  the  last  sacrament  with  an  ardent 
piety.  The  fear  of  death  which  all  her  life  had  so  con- 
tinually troubled  her,  disappeared  suddenly,  and  dis- 
turbed her  no  more.  She  died,  without  regret,  oc- 
cupied only  with  thoughts  of  eternity,  and  with  a 
sweetness  and  tranquillity  that  accompanied  all  her 
actions. 

Her  only  son  by  Monsieur  de  Montespan,  whom  she 
had  treated  like  a  mother-in-law,  until  her  separation 
from  the  King,  but  who  had  since  returned  to  her  affec- 
tion, D'Antin,  arrived  just  before  her  death.  She  looked 
at  him,  and  only  said  that  he  saw  her  in  a  very  different 
state  to  what  he  had  seen  her  at  Bellegarde.  As  soon 
as  she  was  dead  he  set  out  for  Paris,  leaving  orders  for 
her  obsequies,  which  were  strange,  or  were  strangely 
executed.  Her  body,  formerly  so  perfect,  became  the 
prey  of  the  unskilfulness  and  the  ignorance  of  a  sur- 
geon. The  obsequies  were  at  the  discretion  of  the  com- 
monest valets,  all  the  rest  of  the  house  having  suddenly 
deserted.  The  body  remained  a  long  time  at  the  door 
of  the  house,  whilst  the  canons  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle 


Saint-Simon  129 

and  the  priests  of  the  parish  disputed  about  the  order 
of  precedence  with  more  than  indecency.  It  was  put 
in  keeping  under  care  of  the  parish,  like  the  corpse  oi 
the  meanest  citizen  of  the  place,  and  not  until  a  long 
time  afterwards  was  it  sent  to  Poitiers  to  be  placed 
in  the  family  tomb,  and  then  with  an  unworthy  parsi- 
mony. Madame  de  Montespan  was  bitterly  regretted 
by  all  the  poor  of  the  province,  amongst  whom  she 
spread  an  infinity  of  alms,  as  well  as  amongst  others 
of  different  degree. 

As  for  the  King,  his  perfect  insensibility  at  the  death 
of  a  mistress  he  had  so  passionately  loved,  and  for  so 
many  years,  was  so  extreme,  that  Madame  de  Bour- 
gogne  could  not  keep  her  surprise  from  him.  He  re- 
plied, tranquilly,  that  since  he  had  dismissed  her  he 
had  reckoned  upon  never  seeing  her  again,  and  that 
thus  she  was  from  that  time  dead  to  him.  It  is  easy 
to  believe  that  the  grief  of  the  children  he  had  had  by 
her  did  not  please  him.  Those  children  did  not  dare 
to  wear  mourning  for  a  mother  not  recognised.  Their 
appearance,  therefore,  contrasted  with  that  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Madame  de  la  Yalliere,  who  had  just  died,  and 
for  whom  they  were  wearing  mourning.  Nothing 
could  equal  the  grief  which  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Or- 
leans,  Madame  la  Duchesse,  and  the  Comte  de  Tou- 
louse exhibited.  The  grief  of  Madame  la  Duchesse 
especially  was  astonishing,  for  she  always  prided  her- 
self on  loving  nobody ;  still  more  astonishing  was  the 
grief  of  M.  le  Due.  so  inaccessible  to  friendship.  We 
must  remember,  however,  that  this  death  put  an  end 
to  many  hopes.  M.  du  Maine,  for  his  part,  could 
scarcely  repress  his  joy  at  the  death  of  his  mother,  and 
VOL.  II. — 9 


130  Memoirs  of 

after  having  stopped  away  from  Marly  two  days,  re- 
turned and  caused  the  Comte  de  Toulouse  to  be  re- 
called likewise.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  delivered  of 
a  former  rival,  whose  place  she  had  taken,  ought,  it 
might  have  been  thought,  to  have  felt  relieved.  It  was 
otherwise;  remorse  for  the  benefits  she  had  received 
from  Madame  de  Montespan,  and  for  the  manner  in 
which  those  benefits  had  been  repaid,  overwhelmed 
her.  Tears  stole  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  went  into  a 
strange  privacy  to  hide  them.  Madame  de  Bourgogne, 
who  followed,  was  speechless  with  astonishment. 

The  life  and  conduct  of  so  famous  a  mistress,  sub- 
sequent to  her  forced  retirement,  have  appeared  to  me 
sufficiently  curious  to  describe  at  length ;  and  what 
happened  at  her  death  was  equally  characteristic  of 
the  Court. 

The  death  of  the  Duchesse  de  Nemours,  which  fol- 
lowed quickly  upon  that  of  Madame  de  Montespan, 
made  still  more  stir  in  the  world,  but  of  another  kind. 
Madame  de  Xcmours  was  daughter,  by  a  first  marriage, 
of  the  last  Due  de  Longueville.  She  was  extremely 
rich,  and  lived  in  great  splendour.  She  had  a  strange 
look,  and  a  droll  way  of  dressing, — big  eyes  with  which 
she  could  scarcely  see,  a  shoulder  that  constantly 
twitched,  grey  hairs  that  she  wore  flowing,  and  a  very 
imposing  air.  She  was  a  very  bad  temper,  and  could 
not  forgive.  \Yhen  somebody  asked  her  if  she  said  the 
Pater,  she  replied,  yes,  but  that  she  passed  by  without 
saying  it  the  clause  respecting  pardon  for  our  enemies. 
She  did  not  like  her  kinsfolk,  the  Matignons,  and  would 
never  see  nor  speak  to  any  of  them.  One  day  talking 
to  the  King  at  a  window  of  his  cabinet,  she  saw  Ma- 


Saint-Simon  131 

tignon  passing  in  the  court  below.  Whereupon  she  set 
to  spitting  five  or  six  times  running,  and  then  turned 
to  the  King  and  begged  his  pardon,  saying,  that  she 
could  never  see  a  Matignon  without  spitting  in  that 
manner.  It  may  be  imagined  that  devotion  did  not  in- 
commode her.  She  herself  used  to  tell  a  story,  that 
having  entered  one  day  a  confessional,  without  being 
followed  into  the  church,  neither  her  appearance  nor 
her  dress  gave  her  confessor  an  idea  of  her  rank.  She 
spoke  of  her  great  wealth,  and  said  much  about  the 
Princes  de  Conde  and  de  Conti.  The  confessor  told 
her  to  pass  by  all  that.  She,  feeling  that  the  case  was  a 
serious  one,  insisted  upon  explaining  and  made  allu- 
sion to  her  large  estates  and  her  millions.  The  good 
priest  believed  her  mad,  and  told  her  to  calm  herself ; 
to  get  rid  of  such  ideas ;  to  think  no  more  of  them  ; 
and  above  all  to  eat  good  soups,  if  she  had  the  means 
to  procure  them.  Seized  with  anger  she  rose  and  left 
the  place.  The  confessor  out  of  curiosity  followed  her 
to  the  door.  \Yhen  he  saw  the  good  lady,  whom  he 
thought  mad,  received  by  grooms,  waiting  women,  and 
so  on,  he  had  liked  to  have  fallen  backwards  :  but  he 
ran  to  the  coach  door  and  asked  her  pardon.  It  was 
now  her  turn  to  laugh  at  him,  and  she  got  off  scot-free 
that  day  from  the  confessional. 

Madame  de  Nemours  had  amongst  other  posses- 
sions the  sovereignty  of  Neufchatel.  As  soon  as  she 
was  dead,  various  claimants  arose  to  dispute  the  suc- 
cession. Madame  de  Mailly  laid  claim  to  it,  as  to  the 
succession  to  the  principality  of  Orange,  upon  the 
strength  of  a  very  doubtful  alliance  with  the  house  of 
Chalons,  and  hoped  to  be  supported  by  Madame  de 


132  Memoirs  of 

Maintenon.  But  Madame  de  Maintenon  laughed  at 
her  chimeras,  as  they  were  laughed  at  in  Switzerland. 
M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  was  another  claimant.  He  based 
his  right  upon  the  will  of  the  last  Due  de  Longueville, 
by  which  he  had  been  called  to  all  the  Duke's  wealth, 
after  the  Comte  de  Saint  Paul,  his  brother,  and  his 
posterity.  In  addition  to  these,  there  were  Matignon 
and  the  dowager  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres,  who 
claimed  Neufchatel  by  right  of  their  relationship  to 
Madame  de  Nemours. 

Matignon  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Chamillart,  who 
did  not  like  the  Prince  de  Conti,  and  was  the  declared 
enemy  of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroy,  the  representative 
of  Madame  de  Lesdiguieres,  in  this  affair.  Chamillart, 
therefore,  persuaded  the  King  to  remain  neutral,  and 
aided  Matignon  by  money  and  influence  to  get  the 
start  of  the  other  claimants. 

The  haughty  citizens  of  Neufchatel  saw  then  all  these 
suitors  begging  for  their  suffrages,  when  a  minister 
of  the  Elector  of  Brandebourg  appeared  amongst 
them,  and  disputed  the  pretensions  of  the  Prince  de 
Conti  in  favour  of  his  master,  the  Elector  of  Brande- 
bourg (King  of  Prussia),  who  drew  his  claim  from  the 
family  of  Chalons.  It  \vas  more  distant,  more  en- 
tangled if  possible,  than  that  of  Madame  de  Mailly. 
He  only  made  use  of  it,  therefore,  as  a  pretext.  His 
reasons  were  his  religion,  in  conformity  with  that  of 
the  country;  the  support  of  the  neighbouring  Prot- 
estant cantons,  allies,  and  protectors  of  Neufchatel ;  the 
pressing  reflection  that  the  principality  of  Orange  hav- 
ing fallen  by  the  death  of  William  III.  to  M.  le  Prince 
de  Conti,  the  King  (Louis  XIV.)  had  appropriated 


Saint-Simon  133 

it  and  recompensed  him  for  it :  and  that  he  might  act 
similarly  if  Neufchatel  fell  to  one  of  his  subjects ;  lastly, 
a  treaty  produced  in  good  form,  by  which,  in  the 
event  of  the  death  of  Madame  de  Nemours,  England 
and  Holland  agreed  to  declare  for  the  Elector  of 
Brandebourg,  and  to  assist  him  by  force  in  procuring 
this  little  state.  This  minister  of  the  Elector  was  in 
concert  with  the  Protestant  cantons,  who  upon  his 
declaration  at  once  sided  with  him ;  and  who,  by  the 
money  spent,  the  cpnformity  of  religion,  the  power  of 
the  Elector,  the  reflection  of  what  had  happened  at 
Orange,  found  nearly  all  the  suffrages  favourable.  So 
striking  while  the  iron  was  hot,  they  obtained  a  pro- 
visional judgment  from  Neufchatel,  which  adjudged 
their  state  to  the  Elector  until  the  peace ;  and  in 
consequence  of  this,  his  minister  was  put  into  actual 
possession,  and  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  saw  himself  con- 
strained to  return  more  shamefully  than  he  had  re- 
turned once  before,  and  was  followed  by  the  other 
claimants. 

Madame  de  Mailly  made  such  an  uproar  at  the  news 
of  this  intrusion  of  the  Elector,  that  at  last  the  atten- 
tion of  our  ministers  was  awakened.  They  found,  with 
her,  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  King  not  to  allow  this 
morsel  to  be  carried  off  from  his  subjects ;  and  that 
there  was  danger  in  leaving  it  in  the  hands  of  such  a 
powerful  Protestant  prince,  capable  of  making  a  forti- 
fied place  of  it  so  close  to  the  county  of  Burgundy,  and 
on  a  frontier  so  little  protected.  Thereupon,  the  King 
despatched  a  courier  to  our  minister  in  Switzerland, 
with  orders  to  go  to  Neufchatel,  and  employ  every 
means,  even  menaces,  to  exclude  the  Elector,  and  to 


134  Memoirs  of 

promise  that  the  neutrality  of  France  should  be  main- 
tained if  one  of  her  subjects  was  selected,  no  matter 
which  one.  It  was  too  late.  The  affair  was  finished ; 
the  cantons  were  engaged,  without  means  of  with- 
drawing. They,  moreover,  were  piqued  into  resistance, 
by  an  appeal  to  their  honour  by  the  electoral  minister, 
who  insisted  on  the  menaces  of  Puysieux,  our  repre- 
sentative, to  whose  memoir  the  ministers  of  England 
and  Holland  printed  a  violent  reply.  The  provisional 
judgment  received  no  alteration.  Shame  was  felt ;  and 
resentment  was  testified  during  six  weeks  ;  after  which, 
for  lack  of  being  able  to  do  better,  this  resentment  was 
appeased  of  itself.  It  may  be  imagined  what  hope  re- 
mained to  the  claimants  of  reversing  at  the  peace  this 
provisional  judgment,  and  of  struggling  against  a 
prince  so  powerful  and  so  solidly  supported.  No  men- 
tion of  it  was  afterwards  made,  and  Neufchatel  has  re- 
mained ever  since  fully  and  peaceably  to  this  prince, 
who  was  even  expressly  confirmed  in  his  possession 
at  the  peace  by  France. 

The  armies  assembled  this  year  towards  the  end  of 
May,  and  the  campaign  commenced.  The  Due  de 
Yendome  was  in  command  in  Flanders,  under  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria,  and  by  his  slothfulness  and  inat- 
tention, allowed  Marlborough  to  steal  a  march  upon 
him,  which,  but  for  the  failure  of  some  of  the  arrange- 
ments, might  have  caused  serious  loss  to  our  troops. 
The  enemy  was  content  to  keep  simply  on  the  defen- 
sive after  this,  having  projects  of  attack  in  hand  else- 
where to  which  I  shall  soon  allude. 

On  the  Rhine,  the  Marechal  de  Villars  was  in  com- 
mand, and  was  opposed  by  the  Marquis  of  Bayreuth, 


Saint-Simon  135 

and  afterwards  by  the  Duke  of  Hanover,  since  King 
of  England.  Villars  was  so  far  successful,  that  finding 
himself  feebly  opposed  by  the  Imperials,  he  penetrated 
into  Germany,  after  having  made  himself  master  of 
Heidelberg,  Mannheim,  and  all  the  Palatinate,  and 
seized  upon  a  number  of  cannons,  provisions,  and  mu- 
nitions of  war.  He  did  not  forget  to  tax  the  enemy 
wherever  he  went.  He  gathered  immense  sums — • 
treasures  beyond  all  his  hopes.  Thus  gorged,  he  could 
not  hope  that  his  brigandage  would  remain  unknown. 
He  put  on  a  bold  face  and  wrote  to  the  King,  that  the 
army  would  cost  him  nothing  this  year.  Yillars  begged 
at  the  same  time  to  be  allowed  to  appropriate  some  of 
the  money  he  had  acquired  to  the  levelling  of  a  hill  on 
his  estate  which  displeased  him.  Another  than  he 
would  have  been  dishonoured  by  such  a  request.  But 
it  made  no  difference  in  his  respect,  except  with  the 
public,  with  whom,  however,  he  occupied  himself  but 
little.  His  booty  clutched,  he  thought  of  withdrawing 
from  the  enemy's  country,  and  passing  the  Rhine. 

He  crossed  it  tranquilly,  with  his  army  and  his  im- 
mense booty,  despite  the  attempts  of  the  Duke  of 
Hanover  to  prevent  him,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  on  this 
side,  had  no  care  but  how  to  terminate  the  campaign 
in  repose.  Thus  finished  a  campaign  tolerably  brill- 
iant, if  the  sordid  and  prodigious  gain  of  the  general 
had  not  soiled  it.  Yet  that  general,  on  his  return,  was 
not  less  well  received  by  the  King. 

At  sea  we  had  successes.  Frobin,  with  vessels  more 
feeble  than  the  four  English  ones  of  seventy  guns, 
which  convoyed  a  fleet  of  eighteen  ships  loaded  with 
provisions  and  articles  of  war,  took  two  of  those  ves- 


136  Memoirs  of 

sels  of  war  and  the  eighteen  merchantmen,  after  four 
hours'  fighting,  and  set  fire  to  one  of  the  two  others. 
Three  months  after  he  took  at  the  mouth  of  the  Dwina 
seven  richly-loaded  Dutch  merchant-ships,  bound  for 
Muscovy.  He  took  or  sunk  more  than  fifty  during 
this  campaign.  Afterwards  he  took  three  large  Eng- 
lish ships  of  war  that  he  led  to  Brest,  and  sank  an- 
other of  a  hundred  guns.  The  English  of  New  Eng- 
land, and  of  New  York  were  not  more  successful  in 
Arcadia ;  they  attacked  our  colony  twelve  days  run- 
ning, without  success,  and  were  obliged  to  retire  with 
much  loss. 

The  maritime  year  finished  by  a  terrible  tempest 
upon  the  coast  of  Holland,  which  caused  many  vessels 
to  perish  in  the  Texel,  and  submerged  a  large  number 
of  districts  and  villages.  France  had  also  its  share  of 
these  catastrophes.  The  Loire  overflowed  in  a  man- 
ner hitherto  unheard  of,  broke  down  the  embankments, 
inundated  and  covered  with  sand  many  parts  of  the 
country,  carried  away  villages,  drowned  numbers  of 
people  and  a  quantity  of  cattle,  and  caused  damage  to 
the  amount  of  above  eight  millions.  This  was  another 
of  our  obligations  to  M.  de  la  Feuillade — an  obligation 
which  we  have  not  yet  escaped  from.  Nature,  wiser 
than  man,  had  placed  rocks  in  the  Loire  above  Roanne, 
which  prevented  navigation  to  that  place,  the  principal 
in  the  duchy  of  M.  de  la  Feuillade.  His  father,  tempted 
by  the  profit  of  this  navigation,  washed  to  get  rid  of  the 
rocks.  Orleans,  Blois,  Tours,  in  one  word,  all  the 
places  on  the  Loire,  opposed  this.  They  represented 
the  danger  of  inundations  :  they  were  listened  to,  and 
although  the  M.  de  la  Feuillade  of  that  day  was  a 


Saint-Simon  137 

favourite,  and  on  good  terms  with  M.  Colbert,  he  was 
not  allowed  to  carry  out  his  wishes  with  respect  to 
these  rocks.  His  son,  the  M.  de  la  Feuillade,  whom 
we  have  seen  figuring  with  so  little  distinction  at  the 
siege  of  Turin,  had  more  credit.  Without  listening  to 
anybody,  he  blew  up  the  rocks,  and  the  navigation  was 
rendered  free  in  his  favour ;  the  inundations  that  they 
used  to  prevent  have  overflown  since  at  immense  loss 
to  the  King  and  private  individuals.  The  cause  was 
clearly  seen  afterwards,  but  then  it  was  too  late. 

The  little  effort  made  by  the  enemy  in  Flanders  and 
Germany,  had  a  cause,  which  began  to  be  perceived 
towards  the  middle  of^fuly.  We  had  been  forced  to 
abandon  Italy.  By  a  shameful  treaty  that  was  made,  all 
our  troops  had  retired  from  that  country  into  Savoy. 
Wre  had  given  up  everything.  Prince  Eugene,  who 
had  had  the  glory  of  driving  us  out  of  Italy,  remained 
there  some  time,  and  then  entered  the  county  of  Nice. 

Forty  of  the  enemy's  vessels  arrived  at  Nice  shortly 
afterwards,  and  landed  artillery.  M.  de  Savoie  arrived 
there  also,  with  six  or  seven  thousand  men.  It  was 
now  no  longer  hidden  that  the  siege  of  Toulon  was 
determined  on.  Every  preparation  was  at  once  made 
to  defend  the  place.  Tesse  was  in  command.  The 
delay  of  a  day  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  saved  Toulon, 
and  it  may  be  said,  France.  M.  de  Savoie  had  been 
promised  money  by  the  English.  They  disputed  a 
whole  day  about  the  payment,  and  so  retarded  the  de- 
parture of  the  fleet  from  Nice.  In  the  end,  seeing  M. 
de  Savoie  firm,  they  paid  him  a  million,  which  he  re- 
ceived himself.  But  in  the  mean  time  twenty-one  of 
our  battalions  had  had  time  to  arrive  at  Toulon.  Thev 


138  Memoirs  oi 

decided  the  fortune  of  the  siege.  After  several  unsuc- 
cessful attempts  to  take  the  place,  the  enemy  gave  up 
the  siege  and  retired  in  the  night,  between  the  22nd  and 
23rd  of  August,  in  good  order,  and  without  being  dis- 
turbed. Our  troops  could  obtain  no  sort  of  assistance 
from  the  people  of  I'rovence,  so  as  to  harass  M.  de 
Savoie  in  his  passage  of  the  V'ar.  They  refused  money, 
militia,  and  provisions  bluntly,  saying  that  it  was  no 
matter  to  them  who  came,  and  that  .M.  de  Savoie  could 
not  torment  them  more  than  they  were  tormented 
already. 

The  important  news  of  a  deliverance  so  desired  ar- 
rived at  Marly  on  Friday,  the  26th  of  August,  and 
overwhelmed  all  the  Court  with  joy.  A  scandalous  fuss 
arose,  however,  out  of  this  event.  The  first  courier 
who  brought  the  intelligence  of  it,  had  been  despatched 
by  the  commander  of  the  fleet,  and  had  been  conducted 
to  the  King  by  Pontchartrain,  who  had  the  affairs  of 
the  navy  under  his  control.  The  courier  sent  by  Tesse, 
who  commanded  the  land  forces,  did  not  arrive  until 
some  hours  after  the  other.  Chamillart,  who  received 
this  second  courier,  was  piqued  to  excess  that  Pont- 
charlrain  had  outstripped  him  with  the  news.  He  de- 
clared that  the  news  did  not  belong  to  the  navy,  and 
consequently  Pontchartrain  had  no  right  to  carry  it 
to  the  King.  The  public,  strangely  enough,  sided 
with  Chamillart,  and  otn  every  side  Pontchartrain  was 
treated  as  a  greedy  usurper.  Nobody  had  sufficient 
sense  to  reflect  upon  the  anger  which  a  master  would 
feel  against  a  servant  who,  having  the  information  by 
which  that  master  could  be  relieved  from  extreme  anx- 
iety, should  yet  withhold  the  information  for  six  or 


Saint-Simon  139 

eight  hours,  on  the  ground  that  to  tell  it  was  the  duty 
of  another  servant ! 

The  strangest  thing  is,  that  the  King,  who  was  the 
most  interested,  had  not  the  force  to  declare  himself 
on  either  side,  but  kept  silent.  The  torrent  was  so  im- 
petuous that  Pontchartrain  had  only  to  lower  his  head, 
keep  silent,  and  let  the  waters  pass.  Such  was  the 
weakness  of  the  King  for  his  ministers.  I  recollect 
that,  in  1702,  the  Due  de  Yilleroy  brought  to  Marly  the 
important  news  of  the  battle  of  Luzzara.  But,  because 
Chamillart  was  not  there,  he  hid  himself,  left  the  King 
and  the  Court  in  the  utmost  anxiety,  and  did  not  an- 
nounce his  news  until  long  after,  when  Chamillart, 
hearing  of  his  arrival,  hastened  to  join  him  and  present 
him  to  the  King.  The  King  was  so  far  from  being  dis- 
pleased, that  he  made  the  Due  de  Yilleroy  Lieutenant- 
General  before  dismissing  him. 

There  is  another  odd  thing  that  I  must  relate  be- 
fore quitting  this  affair.  Tesse,  as  I  have  said,  was 
charged  with  the  defence  of  Toulon  by  land.  It  was 
a  charge  of  no  slight  importance.  He  was  in  a  country 
where  nothing  was  prepared,  and  where  everything 
was  wanting;  the  fleet  of  the  enemy  and  their  army 
were  near  at  hand,  commanded  by  two  of  the  most  skil- 
ful captains  of  the  day  :  if  they  succeeded,  the  kingdom 
itself  was  in  danger,  and  the  road  open  to  the  enemy 
even  to  Paris.  A  general  thus  situated  would  have 
been  in  no  humour  for  jesting,  it  might  have  been 
thought.  But  this  was  not  the  case  with  Tesse.  He 
found  time  to  write  to  Pontchartrain  all  the  details  of 
the  war  and  all  that  passed  amongst  our  troops  in  the 
style  of  Don  Quixote,  of  whom  he  called  himself  the 


140  Saint-Simon 

wretched  squire  and  the  Sancho ;  and  everything  he 
wrote  he  adapted  to  the  adventures  of  that  romance. 
Pontchartrain  showed  me  these  letters ;  they  made 
him  die  with  laughing",  he  admired  them  so ;  and  in 
truth  they  were  very  comical,  and  he  imitated  that  ro- 
mance with  more  wit  than  I  believed  him  to  possess. 
It  appeared  to  me  incredible,  however,  that  a  man 
should  write  thus,  at  such  a  critical  time,  to  curry  fa- 
vour with  a  secretary  of  state.  I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved it  had  I  not  seen  it. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Precedence  at  the  Communion  Table — The  King  Offended 
with  Madame  de  Torcy — The  King's  Religion — Atheists  and 
Jansenists — Project  against  Scotland — Preparations — Fail- 
ure— The  Chevalier  de  Saint  George — His  Return  to  Court. 

I  WENT  this  summer  to  Forges,  to  try,  by  means  of 
the  waters  there,  to  get  rid  of  a  tertian  fever  that 
quinquina  only  suspended.  While  there  I  heard  of  a 
new  enterprise  on  the  part  of  the  Princes  of  the  blood, 
who,  in  the  discredit  in  which  the  King  held  them, 
profited  without  measure  by  his  desire  for  the  grandeur 
of  the  illegitimate  children,  to  acquire  new  advantages 
which  were  suffered  because  the  others  shared  them. 
This  was  the  case  in  question. 

After  the  elevation  of  the  Mass — at  the  King's  com- 
munion— a  folding-chair  was  pushed  to  the  foot  of  the 
altar,  was  covered  with  a  piece  of  stuff,  and  then  with 
a  large  cloth,  which  hung  down  before  and  behind. 
At  the  Pater  the  chaplain  rose  and  whispered  in  the 
King's  ear  the  names  of  all  the  Dukes  who  were  in  the 
chapel.  The  King  named  two,  always  the  oldest,  to 
each  of  whom  the  chaplain  advanced  and  made  a  rev- 
erence. During  the  communion  of  the  priest  the  King 
rose,  and  went  and  knelt  down  on  the  bare  floor  behind 
this  folding  seat,  and  took  hold  of  the  cloth;  at  the 

141 


142  Memoirs  of 

same  time  the  two  Dukes,  the  elder  on  the  right,  the 
other  on  the  left,  each  took  hold  of  a  corner  of  the  cloth ; 
the  two  chaplains  took  hold  of  the  other  two  corners  of 
the  same  cloth,  on  the  side  of  the  altar,  all  four  kneel- 
ing, and  the  captain  of  the  guards  also  kneeling  and 
behind  the  King.  The  communion  received  and  the 
oblation  taken  some  moments  afterwards,  the  King  re- 
mained a  little  while  in  the  same  place,  then  returned 
to  his  own,  followed  by  the  two  Dukes  and  the  captain 
of  the  guards,  who  took  theirs.  If  a  son  of  France 
happened  to  be  there  alone,  he  alone  held  the  right 
corner  of  the  cloth,  and  nobody  the  other;  and  when 
M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  was  there,  and  no  son  of  France 
was  present,  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  held  the  cloth  in  like 
manner.  If  a  Prince  of  the  blood  were  alone  present, 
however,  he  held  the  cloth,  but  a  Duke  was  called  for- 
ward to  assist  him.  He  was  not  privileged  to  act  with- 
out the  Duke. 

The  Princes  of  the  blood  wanted  to  change  this ;  they 
were  envious  of  the  distinction  accorded  to  M.  d'Or- 
leans, and  wished  to  put  themselves  on  the  same  foot- 
ing. Accordingly,  at  the  Assumption  of  this  year,  they 
managed  so  well  that  M.  le  Due  served  alone  at  the 
altar  at  the  King's  communion,  no  Duke  being  called 
upon  to  come  and  join  him.  The  surprise  at  this  was 
very  great.  The  Due  de  la  Force  and  the  Marechal 
de  Boufflers,  who  ought  to  have  served,  were  both  pres- 
ent. I  wrote  to  this  last  to  say  that  such  a  thing  had 
never  happened  before,  and  that  it  was  contrary  to  all 
precedent.  I  wrote,  too,  to  M.  d'Orleans,  who  was 
then  in  Spain,  informing  him  of  the  circumstance. 
When  he  returned  he  complained  to  the  King.  But 


Saint-Simon  143 

the  King  merely  said  that  the  Dukes  ought  to  have  pre- 
sented themselves  and  taken  hold  of  the  cloth.  But 
how  could  they  have  done  so,  without  being  requested, 
as  was  customary,  to  come  forward?  What  would  the 
King  have  thought  of  them  if  they  had?  To  conclude, 
nothing  could  be  made  of  the  matter,  and  it  remained 
thus.  Never  then,  since  that  time,  did  I  go  to  the  com- 
munions of  the  King.* 

An  incident  occurred  at  Marly  about  the  same  time, 
which  made  much  stir.  The  ladies  who  were  invited 
to  Marly  had  the  privilege  of  dining  with  the  King. 
Tables  were  placed  for  them,  and  they  took  up  posi- 
tions according  to  their  rank.  The  non-titled  ladies 
had  also  their  special  place.  It  so  happened  one  day, 
that  Madame  de  Torcy  (an  untitled  lady)  placed  herself 
above  the  Duchesse  de  Duras,  who  arrived  at  table  a 
moment  after  her.  Madame  de  Torcy  offered  to  give 
up  her  place,  but  it  was  a  little  late,  and  the  offer  passed 
away  in  compliments.  The  King  entered,  and  put 
himself  at  table.  As  soon  as  he  sat  down,  he  saw  the 
place  Madame  de  Torcy  had  taken,  and  fixed  such  a 
serious  and  surprised  look  upon  her,  that  she  again 
offered  to  give  up  her  place  to  the  Duchesse  de  Duras; 
but  the  offer  was  again  declined.  All  through  the  din- 
ner the  King  scarcely  ever  took  his  eyes  off  Madame 
de  Torcy,  said  hardly  a  word,  and  bore  a  look  of  anger 
that  rendered  everybody  very  attentive,  and  even 
troubled  the  Duchesse  de  Duras. 

*  How  characteristic  is  this  solemn  narrative  of  etiquette  round  the 
communion  table,  not  only  of  the  King  and  the  Court,  but  of  Saint- 
Simon  himself!  If  it  were  my  business  to  comment  on  such  passages, 
what  language  could  I  employ  that  would  not  seem  to  refer  to  the 
conduct  of  monkeys  or  penguins  rather  than  that  of  men. 


144  Memoirs  of 

Upon  rising  from  the  table,  the  King  passed,  accord- 
ing to  custom,  into  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  followed  by  the  Princesses  of  the  blood,  who 
grouped  themselves  around  him  upon  stools;  the  oth- 
ers who  entered,  kept  at  a  distance.  Almost  before  he 
had  seated  himself  in  his  chair,  he  said  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  that  he  had  just  been  witness  of  an  act  of 
"  incredible  insolence  "  (that  was  the  term  he  used) 
which  had  thrown  him  into  such  a  rage  that  he  had 
been  unable  to  eat :  that  such  an  enterprise  would  have 
been  insupportable  in  a  woman  of  the  highest  quality; 
but  coming,  as  it  did,  from  a  mere  bourgeoise,  it  had 
so  affected  him,  that  ten  times  he  had  been  upon  the 
point  of  making  her  leave  the  table,  and  that  he  was 
only  restrained  by  consideration  for  her  husband.  Af- 
ter this  outbreak  he  made  a  long  discourse  upon  the 
genealogy  of  Madame  de  Torcy's  family,  and  other 
matters;  and  then,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  present, 
grew  as  angry  as  ever  against  Madame  de  Torcy.  He 
went  off  then  into  a  discourse  upon  the  dignity  of  the 
Dukes,  and  in  conclusion,  he  charged  the  Princesses  to 
tell  Madame  de  Torcy  to  what  extent  he  had  found 
her  conduct  impertinent.  The  Princesses  looked  at 
each  other,  and  not  one  seemed  to  like  this  commis- 
sion; whereupon  the  King,  growing  more  angry,  said, 
that  it  must  be  undertaken  however,  and  left  the  room. 

The  news  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  of  the  King's 
choler,  soon  spread  all  over  the  Court.  It  was  be- 
lieved, however,  that  all  was  over,  and  that  nothing 
more  would  be  heard  of  the  matter.  Yet  the  very  same 
evening  the  King  broke  out  again  with  even  more  bit- 
terness than  before.  On  the  morrow,  too,  surprise  was 


Saint-Simon  145 

great  indeed,  when  it  was  found  that  the  King,  im- 
mediately after  dinner,  could  talk  of  nothing  but  this 
subject,  and  that,  too,  without  any  softening  of  tone. 
At  last  he  was  assured  that  Madame  de  Torcy  had  been 
spoken  to,  and  this  appeased  him  a  little.  Torcy  was 
obliged  to  write  him  a  letter,  apologising  for  the  fault 
of  Madame  de  Torcy,  and  the  King  at  this  grewr  con- 
tent. It  may  be  imagined  what  a  sensation  this  ad- 
venture produced  all  through  the  Court. 

While  upon  the  subject  of  the  King,  let  me  relate  an 
anecdote  of  him,  which  should  have  found  a  place  ere 
this.  When  M.  d'Orleans  was  about  to  start  for  Spain, 
he  named  the  officers  who  were  to  be  of  his  suite. 
Amongst  others  was  Fontpertius.  At  that  name  the 
King  put  on  a  serious  look. 

"What!  my  nephew,"  he  said.  "Fontpertius!  the 
son  of  a  Jansenist — of  that  silly  woman  who  ran  every- 
where after  M.  Arnould!  I  do  not  wish  that  man  to 
go  with  you." 

"  By  my  faith,  Sire,"  replied  the  Due  d'Orleans,  "  I 
know  not  what  the  mother  has  done;  but  as  for  the 
son,  he  is  far  enough  from  being  a  Jansenist,  I'll  an- 
swer for  it;  for  he  does  not  believe  in  Cod." 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  nephew?  "  said  the  King,  soften- 
ing. 

"  Nothing  more  certain.  Sire,  I  assure  you." 

"  Well,  since  it  is  so,"  said  the  King,  "  there  is  no 
harm :  you  can  take  him  with  you." 

This  scene — for  it  can  be  called  by  no  other  name — 

took  place  in  the  morning.     After  dinner  M.  d'Orleans 

repeated   it  to   me,  bursting  with   laughter,  word  for 

word,  just  as  I  have  written  it.     When  we  had  both 

VOL.  II. — 10 


146  Memoirs  of 

well  laughed  at  this,  we  admired  the  profound  instruc- 
tion of  a  discreet  and  religious  King,  who  considered 
it  better  not  to  believe  in  God  than  to  be  a  Jansenist, 
and  who  thought  there  was  less  danger  to  his  nephew 
from  the  impiety  of  an  unbeliever  than  from  the  doc- 
trines of  a  sectarian.  M.  d'Orleans  could  not  contain 
himself  while  he  told  the  story,  and  never  spoke  of  it 
without  laughing  until  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 
It  ran  all  through  the  Court  and  all  over  the  town,  and 
the  marvellous  thing  was,  that  the  King  was  not  angry 
at  this.  It  was  a  testimony  of  his  attachment  to  the 
good  doctrine  which  withdrew  him  further  and  further 
from  Jansenism.  The  majority  of  people  laughed  with 
all  their  heart.  Others,  more  wise,  felt  rather  disposed 
to  weep  than  to  laugh,  in  considering  to  what  excess  of 
blindness  the  King  had  reached. 

For  a  long  time  a  most  important  project  had 
knocked  at  every  door,  without  being  able  to  obtain  a 
hearing  anywhere.  The  project  was  this: — Hough,  an 
English  gentleman  full  of  talent  and  knowledge,  and 
who,  above  all,  knew  profoundly  the  laws  of  his  coun- 
try, had  filled  various  posts  in  England.  At  first  a 
minister  by  profession,  and  furious  against  King  James; 
afterwards  a  Catholic  and  King  James's  spy,  he  had 
been  delivered  up  to  King  William,  who  pardoned  him. 
He  profited  by  this  only  to  continue  his  services  to 
James.  He  was  taken  several  times,  and  always  es- 
caped from  the  Tower  of  London  and  other  prisons. 
Being  no  longer  able  to  dwell  in  England  he  came  to 
France,  where  he  occupied  himself  always  with  the 
same  line  of  business,  and  was  paid  for  that  by  the 
King  (Louis  XIV.)  and  by  King  James,  the  latter  of 


Saint-Simon  147 

whom  he  unceasingly  sought  to  re-establish.  The  union 
of  Scotland  with  England  appeared  to  him  a  favourable 
conjuncture,  by  the  despair  of  that  ancient  kingdom 
at  seeing  itself  reduced  into  a  province  under  the  yoke 
of  the  English.  The  Jacobite  party  remained  there; 
the  vexation  caused  by  this  forced  union  had  increased 
it,  by  the  desire  felt  to  break  that  union  with  the  aid 
of  a  King  that  they  would  have  re-established.  Hough, 
who  was  aware  of  the  fermentation  going  on,  made 
several  secret  journeys  to  Scotland,  and  planned  an  in- 
vasion of  that  country;  but,  as  I  have  said,  for  a  long 
time  could  get  no  one  to  listen  to  him. 

The  King,  indeed,  was  so  tired  of  such  enterprises, 
that  nobody  dared  to  speak  to  him  upon  this.  All 
drew  back.  No  one  liked  to  bell  the  cat.  At  last,  how- 
ever, Madame  de  Maintenon  being  gained  over,  the 
King  was  induced  to  listen  to  the  project.  As  soon  as 
his  consent  was  gained  to  it,  another  scheme  was  add- 
ed to  the  first.  This  was  to  profit  by  the  disorder  in 
which  the  Spanish  Low  Countries  were  thrown,  and 
to  make  them  revolt  against  the  Imperials  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  affair  of  Scotland  would  bewilder  the 
allies,  and  deprive  them  of  all  support  from  England. 
Bergheyck,  a  man  well  acquainted  with  the  state  of 
those  countries,  was  consulted,  and  thought  the  scheme 
good.  He  and  the  Due  de  Yendome  conferred  upon  it 
in  presence  of  the  King. 

After  talking  over  various  matters,  the  discussion  fell 
upon  the  Meuse,  and  its  position  \\ith  reference  to 
Maestricht.  Vendome  held  that  the  Meuse  flowed  in 
a  certain  direction.  Bergheyck  opposed  him.  Ven- 
dome, indignant  that  a  civilian  should  dare  to  dispute 


148  Memoirs  of 

military  movements  with  him,  grew  warm.  The  other 
remained  respectful  and  cool,  but  firm.  Vendome 
laughed  at  Bergheyck,  as  at  an  ignorant  fellow  who 
did  not  know  the  position  of  places.  Bergheyck  main- 
tained his  point.  Vendome  grew  more  and  more  hot. 
If  he  was  right,  what  he  proposed  was  easy  enough;  if 
wrong,  it  was  impossible.  It  was  in  vain  that  Ven- 
dome pretended  to  treat  with  disdain  his  opponent ; 
Bergheyck  was  not  to  be  put  down,  and  the  King, 
tired  out  at  last  with  a  discussion  upon  a  simple  ques- 
tion of  fact,  examined  the  maps.  He  found  at  once 
that  Bergheyck  was  right.  Any  other  than  the  King 
would  have  felt  by  this  what  manner  of  man  was  this 
general  of  his  taste,  of  his  heart,  and  of  his  confidence; 
any  other  than  Vendome  would  have  been  confounded; 
but  it  was  Bergheyck  in  reality  who  was  so,  to  see  the 
army  in  such  hands  and  the  blindness  of  the  King  for 
him!  He  was  immediately  sent  into  Flanders  to  work 
up  a  revolt,  and  he  did  it  so  well,  that  success  seemed 
certain,  dependent,  of  course,  upon  success  in  Scotland. 
The  preparations  for  the  invasion  of  that  country 
\vere  at  once  commenced.  Thirty  vessels  were  armed 
at  Dunkerque  and  in  the  neighbouring  ports.  The 
Chevalier  de  Forbin  was  chosen  to  command  the  squad- 
ron. Four  thousand  men  were  brought  from  Flanders 
to  Dunkerque;  and  it  was  given  out  that  this  move- 
ment was  a  mere  change  of  garrison.  The  secret  of 
the  expedition  was  well  kept;  but  the  misfortune  was 
that  things  were  done  too  slowly.  The  fleet,  which  de- 
pended upon  Pontchartrain,  was  not  ready  in  time,  and 
that  which  depended  upon  Chamillart,  was  still  more 
behind  hand.  The  two  ministers  threw  the  fault  upon 


Saint-Simon  149 

each  other;  but  the  truth  is,  both  were  to  blame.  Pont- 
chartrain  was  more  than  accused  of  delaying  matters 
from  unwillingness;  the  other  from  powerlessness. 

Great  care  was  taken  that  no  movement  should  be 
seen  at  Saint  Germain.  The  affair,  however,  began  in 
time  to  get  noised  abroad.  A  prodigious  quantity  of 
arms  and  clothing  for  the  Scotch  had  been  embarked; 
the  movements  by  sea  and  land  became  only  too  visible 
upon  the  coast.  At  last,  on  "Wednesday,  the  6th  of 
March,  the  King  of  England  set  out  from  Saint  Ger- 
main. He  was  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Perth,  who 
had  been  his  sub-preceptor;  by  the  two  Hamiltons,  by 
Middleton,  and  a  very  few  others.  But  his  departure 
had  been  postponed  too  long.  At  the  moment  when 
all  were  ready  to  start,  people  learned  with  surprise  that 
the  English  fleet  had  appeared  in  sight,  and  was  block- 
ading Dunkcrque.  Our  troops,  who  were  already  on 
board  ship,  were  at  once  landed.  The  King  of  Eng- 
land cried  out  so  loudly  against  this,  and  proposed  so 
eagerly  that  an  attempt  should  be  made  to  pass  the 
enemy  at  all  risks,  that  a  fleet  was  sent  out  to  recon- 
noitre the  enemy,  and  the  troops  were  re-embarked. 
But  then  a  fresh  mischance  happened.  The  Princess 
of  England  had  had  the  measles,  and  was  barely  grow- 
ing convalescent  at  the  time  of  the  departure  of  the 
King,  her  brother.  She  had  been  prevented  from  see- 
ing him,  lest  he  should  be  attacked  by  the  same  com- 
plaint. In  spite  of  this  precaution,  however,  it  declared 
itself  upon  him  at  Dunkerque,  just  as  the  troops  were 
re-embarked.  He  was  in  despair,  and  wished  to  be 
wrapped  up  in  blankets  and  carried  on  board.  The 
doctors  said  that  it  would  kill  him;  and  he  was  obliged 


150  Memoirs  of 

to  remain.  The  worst  of  it  was,  that  two  of  five  Scotch 
deputies  who  had  been  hidden  at  Montrogue,  near 
Paris,  had  been  sent  into  Scotland  a  fortnight  before, 
to  announce  the  immediate  arrival  of  the  King  with 
arms  and  troops.  The  movement  which  it  was  felt  this 
announcement  would  create,  increased  the  impatience 
for  departure.  At  last,  on  Saturday,  the  igth  of  March, 
the  King  of  England,  half  cured  and  very  weak,  deter- 
mined to  embark  in  spite  of  his  physicians,  and  did  so. 
The  enemy's  vessels  had  retired;  so,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  our  ships  set  sail  with  a  good  breeze,  and 
in  the  midst  of  a  mist,  which  hid  them  from  view  in 
about  an  hour. 

Forty-eight  hours  after  the  departure  of  our  squad- 
ron, twenty-seven  English  ships  of  war  appeared  before 
Dunkerque.  But  our  fleet  was  away.  The  very  first 
night  it  experienced  a  furious  tempest.  The  ship  in 
which  was  the  King  of  England  took  shelter  after- 
wards behind  the  works  of  Ostend.  During  the  storm, 
another  ship  was  separated  from  the  squadron,  and  was 
obliged  to  take  refuge  on  the  coast  of  Picardy.  This 
vessel,  a  frigate,  was  commanded  by  Rambure,  a  lieu- 
tenant. As  soon  as  he  was  able  he  sailed  after  the 
squadron  that  he  believed  already  in  Scotland.  He  di- 
rected his  course  towards  Edinburgh,  and  found  no 
vessel  during  all  the  voyage.  As  he  approached  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  he  saw  around  him  a  number  of 
barques  and  small  vessels  that  he  could  not  avoid,  and 
that  he  determined  in  consequence  to  approach  with  as 
good  a  grace  as  possible.  The  masters  of  these  ships 
told  him  that  the  King  was  expected  with  impatience, 
but  that  they  had  no  news  of  him,  that  they  had  come 


Saint-Simon  151 

out  to  meet  him,  and  that  they  would  send  pilots  to 
Rambure,  to  conduct  him  up  the  river  to  Edinburgh, 
where  all  was  hope  and  joy.  Rambure,  equally  sur- 
prised that  the  squadron  which  bore  the  King  of  Eng- 
land had  not  appeared,  and  of  the  publicity  of  his  forth- 
coming arrival,  went  up  towards  Edinburgh  more  and 
more  surrounded  by  barques,  which  addressed  to  him 
the  same  language.  A  gentleman  of  the  country 
passed  from  one  of  these  barques  upon  the  frigate.  He 
told  Rambure  that  the  principal  noblemen  of  Scotland 
had  resolved  to  act  together,  that  these  noblemen  could 
count  upon  more  than  twenty  thousand  men  ready  to 
take  up  arms,  and  that  all  the  towns  awaited  only  the 
arrival  of  the  King  to  proclaim  him. 

More  and  more  troubled  that  the  squadron  did  not 
appear,  Rambure,  after  a  time,  turned  back  and  went 
in  search  of  it.  As  he  approached  the  mouth  of  the 
river,  which  he  had  so  lately  entered,  he  heard  a  great 
noise  of  cannon  out  at  sea,  and  a  short  time  afterwards 
he  saw  many  vessels  of  war  there.  Approaching  more 
and  more,  and  quitting  the  river,  he  distinguished  our 
squadron,  chased  by  twenty-six  large  ships  of  war  and 
a  number  of  other  vessels,  all  of  which  he  soon  lost 
sight  of,  so  much  was  our  squadron  in  advance.  He 
continued  on  his  course  in  order  to  join  them;  but  he 
could  not  do  so  until  all  had  passed  by  the  mouth  of 
the  river.  Then  steering  clear  of  the  rear-guard  of  the 
English  ships,  he  remarked  that  the  English  fleet  was 
hotly  chasing  the  ship  of  the  King  of  England,  which 
ran  along  the  coast,  however,  amid  the  fire  of  cannon 
and  oftentimes  of  musketry.  Rambure  tried,  for  a  long 
time,  to  profit  by  the  lightness  of  his  frigate  to  get 


152  Memoirs  of 

ahead  ;  but,  always  cut  off  by  the  enemy's  vessels,  and 
continually  in  danger  of  being  taken,  he  returned  to 
Dunkerque,  where  he  immediately  despatched  to  the 
Court  this  sad  and  disturbing  news.  He  was  followed, 
five  or  six  days  after,  by  the  King  of  England,  who 
returned  to  Dunkerque  on  the  7th  of  April,  with  his 
vessels  badly  knocked  about. 

It  seems  that  the  ship  in  which  was  the  Prince,  after 
experiencing  the  storm  I  have  already  alluded  to,  set 
sail  again  with  its  squadron,  but  twice  got  out  of  its 
reckoning  within  forty-eight  hours;  a  fact  not  easy  to 
understand  in  a  voyage  from  Ostend  to  Edinburgh. 
This  circumstance  gave  time  to  the  English  to  join 
them;  thereupon  the  King  held  a  council,  and  much 
time  was  lost  in  deliberations.  When  the  squadron 
drew  near  the  river,  the  enemy  was  so  close  upon  us, 
that  to  enter,  without  fighting  either  inside  or  out, 
seemed  impossible.  In  this  emergency  it  was  sug- 
gested, that  our  ships  should  go  on  to  Inverness,  about 
eighteen  or  twenty  leagues  further  off.  But  this  was 
objected  to  by  Middleton  and  the  Chevalier  Forbin,  who 
declared  that  the  King  of  England  was  expected  only 
at  Edinburgh,  and  that  it  \vas  useless  to  go  elsewhere; 
and  accordingly  the  project  was  given  up,  and  the  ships 
returned  to  France. 

This  return,  however,  was  not  accomplished  without 
some  difficulty.  The  enemy's  fleet  attacked  the  rear- 
guard of  ours,  and  after  an  obstinate  combat,  took  two 
vessels  of  war  and  some  other  vessels.  Among  the 
prisoners  made  by  the  English  were  the  Marquis  dc 
Levi,  Lord  Griffin,  and  the  two  sons  of  Middlcton;  who 
all,  after  suffering  some  little  bad  treatment,  were  con- 
ducted to  London. 


Saint-Simon  153 

Lord  Griffin  was  an  old  Englishman,  who  deserves  a 
word  of  special  mention.  A  firm  Protestant,  but  much 
attached  to  the  King  of  England,  he  knew  nothing  of 
this  expedition  until  after  the  King's  departure.  He 
went  immediately  in  quest  of  the  Queen.  With  Eng- 
lish freedom  he  reproached  her  for  the  little  confidence 
she  had  had  in  him,  in  spite  of  his  services  and  his 
constant  fidelity,  and  finished  by  assuring  her  that  nei- 
ther his  age  nor  his  religion  would  hinder  him  from 
serving  the  King  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood.  He 
spoke  so  feelingly  that  the  Queen  was  ashamed.  After 
this  he  went  to  Versailles,  asked  M.  de  Toulouse  for  a 
hundred  louis  and  a  horse,  and  without  delay  rode  off 
to  Dunkerque,  where  he  embarked  with  the  others. 
In  London  he  was  condemned  to  death ;  but  he  showed 
so  much  firmness  and  such  disdain  of  death,  that  his 
judges  were  too  much  ashamed  to  allow  the  execution 
to  be  carried  out.  The  Queen  sent  him  one  respite, 
then  another,  although  he  had  never  asked  for  either, 
and  finally  he  was  allowed  to  remain  at  liberty  in  Lon- 
don on  parole.  He  always  received  fresh  respites,  and 
lived  in  London  as  if  in  his  own  country,  well  received 
everywhere.  Being  informed  that  these  respites  would 
never  cease,  he  lived  thus  several  years,  and  died  very 
old,  a  natural  death.  The  other  prisoners  were  equally 
well  treated. 

It  was  in  this  expedition  that  the  King  of  England 
first  assumed  the  title  of  the  Chevalier  de  Saint  George, 
and  that  his  enemies  gave  him  that  of  the  Pretender; 
both  of  which  have  remained  to  him.  He  showed  much 
will  and  firmness,  which  he  spoiled  by  a  docility,  the 
result  of  a  bad  education,  austere  and  confined,  that 


154  Memoirs  of 

devotion,  ill  understood,  together  with  the  desire  of 
maintaining  him  in  fear  and  dependence,  caused  the 
Queen  (who,  with  all  her  sanctity,  always  wished  to 
dominate)  to  give  him.  He  asked  to  serve  in  the  next 
campaign  in  Flanders,  and  wished  to  go  there  at  once, 
or  remain  near  Dunkerque.  Service  was  promised  him, 
but  he  was  made  to  return  to  Saint  Germain.  Hough, 
who  had  been  made  a  peer  of  Ireland  before  starting, 
preceded  him  with  the  journals  of  the  voyage,  and  that 
of  Forbin,  to  whom  the  King  gave  a  thousand  crowns 
pension  and  ten  thousand  as  a  recompense. 

The  King  of  England  arrived  at  Saint  Germain  on 
Friday,  the  2Oth  of  April,  and  came  with  the  Queen,  the 
following  Sunday,  to  Marly,  where  our  King  was.  The 
two  Kings  embraced  each  other  several  times,  in  the 
presence  of  the  two  Courts.  But  the  visit  altogether 
was  a  sad  one.  The  Courts,  which  met  in  the  garden, 
returned  towards  the  Chateau,  exchanging  indifferent 
words  in  an  indifferent  way. 

Middleton  was  strongly  suspected  of  having  ac- 
quainted the  English  with  our  project.  They  acted,  at 
all  events,  as  if  they  had  been  informed  of  everything, 
and  wished  to  appear  to  know  nothing.  They  made  a 
semblance  of  sending  their  fleet  to  escort  a  convoy  to 
Portugal;  they  got  in  readiness  the  few  troops  they 
had  in  England  and  sent  them  towards  Scotland;  and 
the  Queen,  under  various  pretexts,  detained  in  Lon- 
don, until  the  affair  had  failed,  the  Duke  of  Hamilton, 
the  most  powerful  Scotch  lord,  and  the  life  and  soul 
of  the  expedition.  When  all  was  over,  she  made  no 
arrests,  and  wisely  avoided  throwing  Scotland  into  de- 
spair. This  conduct  much  augmented  her  authority 


Saint-Simon 


155 


in  England,  attached  all  hearts  to  her,  and  took  away 
all  desire  of  stirring  again  by  taking  away  all  hope  of 
success.  Thus  failed  a  project  so  well  and  so  secretly 
conducted  until  the  end,  which  was  pitiable;  and  with 
this  project  failed  that  of  the  Low  Countries,  which 
was  no  longer  thought  of. 

The  allies  uttered  loud  cries  against  this  attempt  on 
the  part  of  a  power  they  believed  at  its  last  gasp,  and 
which,  while  pretending  to  seek  peace,  thought  of  noth- 
ing less  than  the  invasion  of  Great  Britain.  The  effect 
of  our  failure  was  to  bind  closer,  and  to  irritate  more 
and  more  this  formidable  alliance. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Death  and  Character  of  Brissac — Brissac  and  the  Court  Ladies 
— The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne — Scene  at  the  Carp  Basin — 
King's  Selfishness — The  King  Cuts  Samuel  Bernard's  Purse 
— A  Vain  Capitalist — Story  of  Leon  and  Florence  the 
Actress — His  Loves  with  Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure — 
Run-away  Marriage — Anger  of  Madame  de  Roquelaure — A 
Furious  Mother — Opinions  of  the  Court — A  Mistake — In- 
terference of  the  King — Fate  of  the  Couple. 

BRISSAC,  Major  of  the  Body-guards,  died  of  age 
and  ennui  about  this  time,  more  than  eighty 
years  old,  at  his  country-house,  to  which  he  had  not 
long  retired.  The  King  had  made  use  of  him  to  put 
the  Guards  upon  that  grand  military  footing  they  have 
reached.  He  had  acquired  the  confidence  of  the  King 
by  his  inexorable  exactitude,  his  honesty,  and  his  apti- 
tude. He  was  a  sort  of  wild  boar,  who  had  all  the 
appearance  of  a  bad  man,  without  being  so  in  reality ; 
but  his  manners  were,  it  must  be  admitted,  harsh  and 
disagreeable.  The  King,  speaking  one  day  of  the 
majors  of  the  troops,  said  that  if  they  were  good,  they 
were  sure  to  be  hated. 

"  If  it  is  necessary  to  be  perfectly  hated  in  order  to 
be  a  good  major,"  replied  M.  de  Duras,  who  was  be- 
hind the  King  with  the  baton,  "  behold,  Sire,  the  best 

156 


Saint-Simon  157 

major  in  France !  "  and  he  took  Brissac,  all  confusion, 
by  the  arm.  The  King  laughed,  though  he  would 
have  thought  such  a  sally  very  bad  in  any  other ;  but 
M.  de  Duras  had  put  himself  on  such  a  free  footing, 
that  he  stopped  at  nothing  before  the  King,  and  often 
said  the  sharpest  things.  This  major  had  very  robust 
health,  and  laughed  at  the  doctors — very  often,  even 
before  the  King,  at  Fagon,  whom  nobody  else  would 
have  dared  to  attack.  Fagon  replied  by  disdain,  often 
by  anger,  and  with  all  his  wit  was  embarrassed.  These 
short  scenes  were  sometimes  very  amusing. 

Brissac,  a  few  years  before  his  retirement,  served 
the  Court  ladies  a  nice  turn.  All  through  the  winter 
they  attended  evening  prayers  on  Thursdays  and  Sun- 
clays,  because  the  King  went  there  ;  and,  under  the 
pretence  of  reading  their  prayer-books,  had  little  tapers 
before  them,  which  cast  a  light  on  their  faces,  and 
enabled  the  King  to  recognise  them  as  he  passed.  On 
the  evenings  when  they  knew  he  would  not  go,  scarcely 
one  of  them  went.  One  evening,  when  the  King  was 
expected,  all  the  ladies  had  arrived,  and  were  in  their 
places,  and  the  guards  were  at  their  doors.  Suddenly, 
Brissac  appeared  in  the  King's  place,  lifted  his  baton, 
and  cried  aloud,  "  Guards  of  the  King,  withdraw,  re- 
turn to  your  quarters ;  the  King  is  not  coining  this 
evening."  The  guards  withdrew  ;  but  alter  they  had 
proceeded  a  short  distance,  were  stopped  by  brigadiers 
posted  for  the  purpose,  and  told  to  return  in  a  few 
minutes.  What  Brissac  had  said  was  a  joke.  The 
ladies  at  once  began  to  murmur  one  to  another.  In  a 
moment  or  two  all  the  candles  were  put  out,  and  the 
ladies,  with  but  few  exceptions,  left  the  chapel.  Soon 


158  Memoirs  of 

after  the  King  arrived,  and,  much  astonished  to  see  so 

few  ladies  present,  asked  how  it  was  that  nobody  was 
there.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  prayers  Brissac  re- 
lated what  he  had  done,  not  without  dwelling  on  the 
piety  of  the  Court  ladies.  The  King  and  all  who 
accompanied  him  laughed  heartily.  The  story  soon 
spread,  and  these  ladies  would  have  strangled  Brissac 
if  they  had  been  able. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  being  in  the  family 
way  this  spring,  was  much  inconvenienced.  The  King 
wished  to  go  to  Fontainebleau  at  the  commencement 
of  the  fine  season,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom ;  and 
had  declared  this  wish.  In  the  mean  time  he  desired 
to  pay  visits  to  Marly.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  much 
amused  him  ;  he  could  not  do  without  her,  yet  so  much 
movement  was  not  suitable  to  her  state.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  was  uneasy,  and  Fagon  gently  intimated 
his  opinion.  This  annoyed  the  King,  accustomed  to 
restrain  himself  for  nothing,  and  spoiled  by  having 
seen  his  mistresses  travel  when  big  with  child,  or  when 
just  recovering  from  their  confinement,  and  always  in 
full  dress.  The  hints  against  going  to  Marly  bothered 
him,  but  did  not  make  him  give  them  up.  All  he 
would  consent  to  was,  that  the  journey  should  be  put 
off  from  the  day  after  Quasimodo  to  the  Wednesday 
of  the  following  week ;  but  nothing  could  make  him 
delay  his  amusement  beyond  that  time,  or  induce  him 
to  allow  the  Princess  to  remain  at  Versailles. 

On  the  following  Saturday,  as  the  King  was  taking 
a  walk  after  mass,  and  amusing  himself  at  the  carp 
basin  between  the  Chateau  and  the  Perspective,  we 
saw  the  Duchesse  de  Lude  coming'  towards  him  on  foot 


Saint-Simon  159 

and  all  alone,  which,  as  no  lady  was  with  the  King,  was 
a  rarity  in  the  morning.  We  understood  that  she  had 
something  important  to  say  to  him,  and  when  he  was  a 
short  distance  from  her,  we  stopped  so  as  to  allow  him 
to  join  her  alone.  The  interview  was  not  long.  She 
went  away  again,  and  the  King  came  back  towards 
us  and  near  the  carps  without  saying  a  word.  Each 
saw  clearly  what  was  in  the  wind,  and  nobody  was  eager 
to  speak.  At  last  the  King,  when  quite  close  to  the 
basin,  looked  at  the  principal  people  around,  and  with- 
out addressing  anybody,  said,  with  an  air  of  vexation, 
these  few  words : — 

"  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  is  hurt." 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  at  once  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion. M.  de  Bouillon,  the  Due  de  Tresmes,  and  Mare- 
chal  de  Boufflers  repeated  in  a  low  tone  the  words  I 
have  named;  and  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  returning 
to  the  charge,  declared  emphatically  that  it  was  the 
greatest  misfortune  in  the  world,  and  that  as  she  had 
already  wounded  herself  on  other  occasions,  she  might 
never,  perhaps,  have  any  more  children. 

"  And  if  so/'  interrupted  the  King  all  on  a  sudden, 
with  anger,  "  what  is  that  to  me  ?  Has  she  not  already 
a  son  ;  and  if  he  should  die,  is  not  the  Due  de  Berry  old 
enough  to  marry  and  have  one  ?  \Yhat  matters  it  to 
me  who  succeeds  me, — the  one  or  the  other?  Are 
they  not  all  equally  my  grandchildren?  "  And  imme- 
diately, with  impetuosity  he  added,  "  Thank  God,  she 
is  wounded,  since  she  was  to  be  so  ;  and  I  shall  no 
longer  be  annoyed  in  my  journeys  and  in  everything 
I  wish  to  do,  by  the  representations  of  doctors  and  the 
reasonings  of  matrons.  I  shall  go  and  come  at  my 
pleasure,  and  shall  be  left  in  peace." 


160  Memoirs  of 

A  silence  so  deep  that  an  ant  might  be  heard  to 
walk,  succeeded  this  strange  outburst.  All  eyes  were 
lowered ;  no  one  scarcely  dared  to  breathe.  All  re- 
mained stupefied.  Even  the  domestics  and  the  gar- 
deners stood  motionless. 

This  silence  lasted  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
The  King  broke  it  as  he  leaned  upon  a  balustrade  to 
speak  of  a  carp.  Xobody  replied.  He  addressed 
himself  afterwards  on  the  subject  of  these  carps  to 
domestics,  who  did  not  ordinarily  join  in  the  conver- 
sation. Nothing  but  carps  was  spoken  of  with  them. 
All  was  languishing,  and  the  King  went  away  some 
time  after.  As  soon  as  we  dared  look  at  each  other 
out  of  his  sight,  our  eyes  met  and  told  all.  Everybody 
there  was  for  the  moment  the  confidant  of  his  neigh- 
bour. We  admired — we  marvelled — we  grieved,  we 
shrugged  our  shoulders.  However  distant  may  be 
that  scene,  it  is  always  equally  present  to  me.  M.  de 
la  Rochefoucauld  was  in  a  fury,  and  this  time  without 
being  wrong.  The  chief  ecuyer  was  ready  to  faint 
with  affright ;  I  myself  examined  everybody  with  my 
eyes  and  ears,  and  was  satisfied  with  myself  for  having 
long  since  thought  that  the  King  loved  and  cared  for 
himself  alone,  and  was  himself  his  only  object  in  life. 
This  strange  discourse  sounded  far  and  wide — much 
beyond  Marly. 

Let  me  here  relate  another  anecdote  of  the  King — 
a  trifle  I  was  witness  of.  It  was  on  the  7th  of  May, 
of  this  year,  and  at  Marly.  The  King  walking  round 
the  gardens,  showing  them  to  Bergheyck,  and  talking 
with  him  upon  the  approaching  campaign  in  Flanders, 
stopped  before  one  of  the  pavilions.  It  was  that  occu- 


Saint-Simon  161 

pied  by  Desmarets,  who  had  recently  succeeded  Cha- 
millart  in  the  direction  of  the  finances,  and  who  was 
at  work  within  with  Samuel  Bernard,  the  famous 
banker,  the  richest  man  in  Europe,  and  whose  money 
dealings  were  the  largest.  The  King  observed  to 
Desmarets  that  he  was  very  glad  to  see  him  with  M. 
Bernard ;  then  immediately  said  to  this  latter : 

"  You  are  just  the  man  never  to  have  seen  Marly — 
come  and  see  it  now ;  I  will  give  you  up  afterwards  to 
Desmarets." 

Bernard  followed,  and  while  the  walk  lasted  the 
King  spoke  only  to  Bergheyck  and  to  Bernard,  leading 
them  everywhere,  and  showing  them  everything  with 
the  grace  he  so  well  knew  how  to  employ  when  he 
desired  to  overwhelm.  I  admired,  and  I  was  not  the 
only  one,  this  species  of  prostitution  of  the  King,  so 
niggard  of  his  words,  to  a  man  of  Bernard's  degree. 
I  was  not  long  in  learning  the  cause  of  it,  and  I  ad- 
mired to  see  how  low  the  greatest  kings  sometimes 
find  themselves  reduced. 

Our  finances  just  then  were  exhausted.  Desmarets 
no  longer  knew  of  what  wood  to  make  a  crutch.  He 
had  been  to  Paris  knocking  at  every  door.  But  the 
most  exact  engagements  had  been  so  often  broken  that 
he  found  nothing  but  excuses  and  closed  doors.  Ber- 
nard, like  the  rest,  would  advance  nothing.  Much  was 
clue  to  him.  In  vain  Desmarets  represented  to  him 
the  pressing  necessity  for  money,  and  the  enormous 
gains  he  had  made  out  of  the  King.  Bernard  re- 
mained unshakeable.  The  King  and  the  minister  were 
cruelly  embarrassed.  Desmarets  said  to  the  King 
that,  after  all  was  said  and  done,  only  Samuel  Bernard 
VOL.  II.  — ii 


162  Memoirs  of 

could  draw  them  out  of  the  mess,  because  it  was  not 
doubtful  that  he  had  plenty  of  money  everywhere ; 
that  the  only  thing  needed  was  to  vanquish  his  de- 
termination and  the  obstinacy — even  insolence — he 
had  shown ;  that  he  was  a  man  crazy  with  vanity,  and 
capable  of  opening  his  purse  if  the  King  deigned  to 
flatter  him. 

It  was  agreed,  therefore,  that  Desmarets  should  in- 
vite Bernard  to  dinner — should  walk  with  him — and 
that  the  King  should  come  and  disturb  them  as  I  have 
related.  Bernard  was  the  dupe  of  this  scheme ;  he 
returned  from  his  walk  with  the  King  enchanted  to 
such  an  extent  that  he  said  he  would  prefer  ruining 
himself  rather  than  leave  in  embarrassment  a  Prince 
who  had  just  treated  him  so  graciously,  and  whose 
eulogiums  he  uttered  with  enthusiasm !  Desmarets 
profited  by  this  trick  immediately,  and  drew  much 
more  from  it  than  he  had  proposed  to  himself. 

The  Prince  de  Leon  had  an  adventure  just  about 
this  time,  which  made  much  noise.  He  was  a  great, 
ugly,  idle,  mischievous  fellow,  son  of  the  Due  de 
Rohan,  who  had  given  him  the  title  I  have  just  named. 
He  had  served  in  one  campaign  very  indolently,  and 
then  quitted  the  army,  under  pretence  of  ill-health,  to 
serve  no  more.  Glib  in  speech,  and  with  the  manners 
of  the  great  world,  he  was  full  of  caprices  and  fancies ; 
although  a  great  gambler  and  spendthrift,  he  was 
miserly,  and  cared  only  for  himself.  He  had  been 
enamoured  of  Florence,  an  actress,  whom  M.  d'Or- 
leans  had  for  a  long  time  kept,  and  by  whom  he  had 
children,  one  of  whom  is  now  Archbishop  of  Cambrai. 
M.  de  Leon  also  had  several  children  by  this  creature, 


Saint-Simon  163 

and  spent  large  sums  upon  her.  When  he  went  in 
place  of  his  father  to  open  the  States  of  Brittany,  she 
accompanied  him  in  a  coach  and  six  horses,  with  a 
ridiculous  scandal.  His  father  was  in  agony  lest  he 
should  marry  her.  He  offered  to  insure  her  five  thou- 
sand francs  a-year  pension,  and  to  take  care  of  their 
children,  if  M.  de  Leon  would  quit  her.  But  M.  de 
Leon  would  not  hear  of  this,  and  his  father  accordingly 
complained  to  the  King.  The  King  summoned  M.  de 
Leon  into  his  cabinet ;  but  the  young  man  pleaded  his 
cause  so  well  there,  that  he  gained  pity  rather  than 
condemnation.  Nevertheless,  La  Florence  was  car- 
ried away  from  a  pretty  little  house  at  the  Ternes,  near 
Paris,  where  AI.  de  Leon  kept  her,  and  was  put  in  a 
convent.  M.  de  Leon  became  furious ;  for  some  time 
he  would  neither  see  nor  speak  of  his  father  or  mother, 
and  repulsed  all  idea  of  marriage. 

At  last,  however,  no  longer  hoping  to  see  his  actress, 
he  not  only  consented,  but  wished  to  marry.  His 
parents  were  delighted  at  this,  and  at  once  looked  about 
for  a  wife  for  him.  Their  choice  fell  upon  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  Due  de  Roquelaure,  who,  although 
humpbacked  and  extremely  ugly,  was  to  be  very  rich 
some  day,  and  was,  in  fact,  a  very  good  match.  The 
affair  had  been  arranged  and  concluded  up  to  a  certain 
point,  when  all  was  broken  off,  in  consequence  of  the 
haughty  obstinacy  with  which  the  Duchesse  de  Roque- 
laure demanded  a  larger  sum  with  M.  de  Leon  than 
M.  de  Rohan  chose  to  give. 

The  young  couple  were  in  despair :  M.  de  Leon,  lest 
his  father  should  always  act  in  this  way,  as  an  excuse 
for  giving  him  nothing;  the  young  lady,  because  she 


164  Memoirs  of 

feared  she  should  rot  in  a  convent,  through  the  avarice 
of  her  mother,  and  never  marry.  She  was  more  than 
twenty-four  years  of  age ;  he  was  more  than  eight-and- 
twenty.  She  was  in  the  convent  of  the  Daughters  of 
the  Cross  in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine. 

As  soon  as  M.  de  Leon  learnt  that  the  marriage  was 
broken  off,  he  hastened  to  the  convent ;  and  told  all  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure ;  played  the  passionate, 
the  despairing;  said  that  if  they  waited  for  their  par- 
ents' consent  they  would  never  marry,  and  that  she 
would  rot  in  her  convent.  He  proposed,  therefore, 
that,  in  spite  of  their  parents,  they  should  marry  and 
become  their  own  guardians.  She  agreed  to  this  proj- 
ect, and  he  went  away  in  order  to  execute  it. 

One  of  the  most  intimate  friends  of  Madame  de 
Roquelaure  was  Madame  de  la  Vieuville,  and  she  was 
the  only  person  (excepting  Madame  de  Roquelaure 
herself)  to  whom  the  Superior  of  the  convent  had  per- 
mission to  confide  Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure. 
Madame  de  la  Yieuville  often  came  to  see  Mademoi- 
selle de  Roquelaure  to  take  her  out,  and  sometimes 
sent  for  her.  M.  de  Leon  was  made  acquainted  with 
this,  and  took  his  measures  accordingly.  He  pro- 
cured a  coach  of  the  same  size,  shape,  and  fittings  as 
that  of  Madame  de  la  Vieuville,  with  her  arms  upon  it, 
and  with  three  servants  in  her  livery ;  he  counterfeited 
a  letter  in  her  handwriting  and  with  her  seal,  and  sent 
this  coach  with  a  lackey  well  instructed  to  carry  the 
letter  to  the  convent,  on  Tuesday  morning,  the  29th  of 
May,  at  the  hour  Madame  de  la  Vieuville  was  accus- 
tomed to  send  for  her. 

Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure,  who  had  been  let  into 


Saint-Simon  165 

the  scheme,  carried  the  letter  to  the  Superior  of  the 
convent,  and  said  Madame  de  la  Vieuville  had  sent  for 
her.  Had  the  Superior  any  message  to  send? 

The  Superior,  accustomed  to  these  invitations,  did 
not  even  look  at  the  letter,  but  gave  her  consent  at 
once.  Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure,  accompanied 
solely  by  her  governess,  left  the  convent  immediately, 
and  entered  the  coach,  which  drove  off  directly.  At 
the  first  turning  it  stopped,  and  the  Prince  de  Leon, 
who  had  been  in  waiting,  jumped  in.  The  governess 
at  this  began  to  cry  out  with  all  her  might ;  but  at  the 
very  first  sound  M.  de  Leon  thrust  a  handkerchief  into 
her  mouth  and  stifled  the  noise.  The  coachman  mean- 
while lashed  his  horses,  and  the  vehicle  went  off  at  full 
speed  to  Bruyeres  near  Menilmontant,  the  country- 
house  of  the  Due  de  Lorges,  my  brother-in-law,  and 
friend  of  the  Prince  de  Leon,  and  who,  with  the  Comte 
de  Rieux,  awaited  the  runaway  pair. 

An  interdicted  and  wandering  priest  was  in  waiting, 
and  as  soon  as  they  arrived  married  them.  My 
brother-in-law  then  led  these  nice  young  people  into 
a  fine  chamber,  where  they  were  undressed,  put  to  bed, 
and  left  alone  for  two  or  three  hours.  A  good  meal 
was  then  given  to  them,  after  which  the  bride  was  put 
into  the  coach,  with  her  attendant,  who  was  in  despair, 
and  driven  back  to  the  convent. 

Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure  at  once  went  delib- 
erately to  the  Superior,  told  her  all  that  happened,  and 
then  calmly  went  into  her  chamber,  and  wrote  a  fine 
letter  to  her  mother,  giving  her  an  account  of  her 
marriage,  and  asking  for  pardon  :  the  Superior  of  the 
convent,  the  attendants,  and  all  the  household  being, 


1 66  Memoirs  of 

meanwhile,  in  the  utmost  emotion  at  what  had  oc- 
curred. 

The  rage  of  the  Duchesse  de  Roquelaure  at  this 
incident  may  be  imagined.  In  her  first  unreasoning 
fury,  she  went  to  Madame  de  la  Vieuville,  who,  all  in 
ignorance  of  what  had  happened,  was  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  understand  her  stormy  and  insulting  reproaches. 
At  last  Madame  de  Roquelaure  saw  that  her  friend 
was  innocent  of  all  connection  with  the  matter,  and 
turned  the  current  of  her  wrath  upon  M.  de  Leon, 
against  whom  she  felt  the  more  indignant,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  treated  her  with  much  respect  and  attention 
since  the  rupture,  and  had  thus,  to  some  extent,  gained 
her  heart.  Against  her  daughter  she  was  also  indig- 
nant, not  only  for  what  she  had  done,  but  because  she 
had  exhibited  much  gaiety  and  freedom  of  spirit  at 
the  marriage  repast,  and  had  diverted  the  company 
by  some  songs. 

The  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Rohan  were  on  their  side 
equally  furious,  although  less  to  be  pitied,  and  made  a 
strange  uproar.  Their  son,  troubled  to  know  how  to 
extricate  himself  from  this  affair,  had  recourse  to  his 
aunt,  Soubise,  so  as  to  assure  himself  of  the  King. 
She  sent  him  to  Pontchartrain  to  see  the  chancellor. 
M.  de  Leon  saw  him  the  day  after  this  fine  marriage, 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  he  was  dressing. 
The  chancellor  advised  him  to  do  all  he  could  to  gain 
the  pardon  of  his  father  and  of  Madame  de  Roque- 
laure. But  he  had  scarcely  begun  to  speak,  when 
Madame  de  Roquelaure  sent  word  to  say,  that  she 
was  close  at  hand,  and  wished  the  chancellor  to  come 
and  see  her.  He  did  so,  and  she  immediately  poured 


Saint-Simon  167 

out  all  her  griefs  to  him,  saying  that  she  came  not  to 
ask  his  advice,  but  to  state  her  complaint  as  to  a  friend 
(they  were  very  intimate),  and  as  to  the  chief  officer 
of  justice  to  demand  justice  of  him.  When  he  at- 
tempted to  put  in  a  word  on  behalf  of  M.  de  Leon,  her 
fury  burst  out  anew  ;  she  would  not  listen  to  his  words, 
but  drove  off  to  Marly,  where  she  had  an  interview 
with  .Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  by  her  was  presented 
to  the  King. 

As  soon  as  she  was  in  his  presence,  she  fell  down 
on  her  knees  before  him,  and  demanded  justice  in  its 
fullest  extent  against  M.  de  Leon.  The  King  raised 
her  with  the  gallantry  of  a  prince  to  whom  she  had 
not  been  indifferent,  and  sought  to  console  her ;  but 
as  she  still  insisted  upon  justice,  he  asked  her  if  she 
knew  fully  what  she  asked  for,  which  was  nothing  less 
than  the  head  of  M.  de  Leon.  She  redoubled  her  en- 
treaties notwithstanding  this  information,  so  that  the 
King  at  last  promised  her  that  she  should  have  com- 
plete justice.  With  that,  and  many  compliments,  he 
quitted  her,  and  passed  into  his  own  rooms  with  a  very 
serious  air,  and  without  stopping  for  anybody. 

The  news  of  this  interview,  and  of  what  had  taken 
place,  soon  spread  through  the  chamber.  Scarcely  had 
people  begun  to  pity  Madame  de  Roquelaure,  than 
some,  by  aversion  for  the  grand  imperial  airs  of  this 
poor  mother, — the  majority,  seized  by  mirth  at  the 
idea  of  a  creature,  well  known  to  be  very  ugly  and 
humpbacked,  being  carried  off  by  such  an  ugly  gallant, 
— burst  out  laughing,  even  to  tears,  and  with  an  up- 
roar completely  scandalous.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
abandoned  herself  to  mirth,  like  the  rest,  and  corrected 


1 68  Memoirs  of 

the  others  at  last,  by  saying  it  was  not  very  charitable, 
in  a  tone  that  could  impose  upon  no  one. 

Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  I  were  at  Paris.  We 
knew  with  all  Paris  of  this  affair,  but  were  ignorant  of 
the  place  of  the  marriage  and  the  part  M.  de  Lorges 
had  had  in  it,  when  the  third  day  after  the  adventure 
I  was  startled  out  of  my  sleep  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  saw  my  curtains  and  my  windows  open 
at  the  same  time,  and  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and 
her  brother  (M.  de  Lorges)  before  me.  They  related 
to  me  all  that  had  occurred,  and  then  went  away  to 
consult  with  a  skilful  person  what  course  to  adopt, 
leaving  me  to  dress.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  crestfallen 
as  M.  de  Lorges.  He  had  confessed  what  he  had  done 
to  a  clever  lawyer,  who  had  much  frightened  him. 
After  quitting  him,  he  had  hastened  to  us  to  make 
us  go  and  see  Pontchartrain.  The  most  serious  things 
are  sometimes  accompanied  with  the  most  ridiculous. 
M.  de  Lorges  upon  arriving  knocked  at  the  door  of  a 
little  room  which  preceded  the  chamber  of  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon.  My  daughter  was  rather  unwell. 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  thought  she  wras  worse,  and 
supposing  it  was  I  who  had  knocked,  ran  and  opened 
the  door.  At  the  sight  of  her  brother  she  ran  back 
to  her  bed,  to  which  he  followed  her,  in  order  to  relate 
his  disaster.  She  rang  for  the  windows  to  be  opened, 
in  order  that  she  might  see  better.  It  so  happened 
that  she  had  taken  the  evening  before  a  new  servant, 
a  country  girl  of  sixteen,  who  slept  in  the  little  room. 
M.  de  Lorges,  in  a  hurry  to  be  off,  told  this  girl  to 
make  haste  in  opening  the  windows,  and  then  to  go 
away  and  close  the  door.  At  this,  the  simple  girl,  all 


Saint-Simon  169 

amazed,  took  her  robe  and  her  cotillon,  and  went  up- 
stairs to  an  old  chamber-maid,  awoke  her,  and  with 
much  hesitation  told  her  what  had  just  happened,  and 
that  she  had  left  by  the  bedside  of  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon  a  fine  gentleman,  very  young,  all  powdered, 
curled,  and  decorated,  who  had  driven  her  very  quickly 
out  of  the  chamber.  She  was  all  of  a  tremble,  and 
much  astonished.  She  soon  learnt  who  he  was.  The 
story  was  told  to  us,  and  in  spite  of  our  disquietude, 
much  diverted  us. 

\Ye  hurried  away  to  the  chancellor,  and  he  advised 
the  priest,  the  witnesses  to  the  signatures  of  the  mar- 
riage, and,  in  fact,  all  concerned,  to  keep  out  of  the 
way,  except  M.  de  Lorges,  who  he  assured  us  had 
nothing  to  fear.  \Ye  went  afterwards  to  Chamillart, 
whom  we  found  much  displeased,  but  in  little  alarm. 
The  King  had  ordered  an  account  to  be  drawn  up  of 
the  whole  affair.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  uproar 
made  on  all  sides,  people  began  to  see  that  the  King 
would  not  abandon  to  public  dishonour  the  daughter 
of  Madame  de  Roquelaure,  nor  doom  to  the  scaffold 
or  to  civil  death  in  foreign  countries  the  nephew  of 
Madame  de  Soubise. 

Friends  of  M.  and  Madame  de  Roquelaure  tried  to 
arrange  matters.  They  represented  that  it  would  be 
better  to  accept  the  marriage  as  it  was  than  to  expose  a 
daughter  to  cruel  dishonour.  Strange  enough,  the 
Due  and  Duchesse  de  Rohan  were  the  most  stormy. 
They  wished  to  drive  a  very  hard  bargain  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  made  proposals  so  out  of  the  way,  that  nothing 
could  have  been  arranged  but  for  the  King.  He  did 
what  he  had  never  done  before  in  all  his  life ;  he  en- 


170  Saint-Simon 

tered  into  all  the  details ;  he  begged,  then  commanded 
as  master ;  he  had  separate  interviews  with  the  parties 
concerned  ;  and  finally  appointed  the  Due  d'Aumont 
and  the  chancellor  to  draw  up  the  conditions  of  the 
marriage. 

As  Madame  de  Rohan,  even  after  this,  still  refused 
to  give  her  consent,  the  King  sent  for  her,  and  said 
that  if  she  and  her  husband  did  not  at  once  give  in,  he 
would  make  the  marriage  valid  by  his  own  sovereign 
authority.  Finally,  after  so  much  noise,  anguish,  and 
trouble,  the  contract  was  signed  by  the  two  families, 
assembled  at  the  house  of  the  Duchesse  de  Roquelaure. 
The  banns  were  published,  and  the  marriage  took 
place  at  the  church  of  the  Convent  of  the  Cross,  where 
Mademoiselle  de  Roquelaure  had  been  confined  since 
her  beautiful  marriage,  guarded  night  and  day  by  five 
or  six  nuns.  She  entered  the  church  by  one  door, 
Prince  de  Leon  by  another ;  not  a  compliment  or  a 
word  passed  between  them  ;  the  curate  said  mass  ;  mar- 
ried them  ;  they  mounted  a  coach,  and  drove  off  to  the 
house  of  a  friend  some  leagues  from  Paris.  They  paid 
for  their  folly  by  a  cruel  indigence  which  lasted  all  their 
lives,  neither  of  them  having  survived  the  Due  de 
Rohan,  Monsieur  de  Roquelaure,  or  Madame  de 
Roquelaure.  They  left  several  children. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Due  d'Orleans  in  Spain — Offends  Madame  dc>  Ursins 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon — Laziness  of  M.  de  Vendome  in 
Flanders — Battle  of  Oudenarde — Defeat  and  Disasters — 
Difference  of  M.  de  Vendome  and  the  Due  de  Bourgogne. 

THE  war  this  year  proceeded  much  as  before.  M. 
d'Orleans  went  to  Spain  again.  Before  taking  the 
field  he  stopped  at  Madrid  to  arrange  matters.  There 
he  found  nothing  prepared,  and  everything  in  disorder. 
He  was  compelled  to  work  day  after  day,  for  many 
hours,  in  order  to  obtain  the  most  necessary  supplies. 
This  is  what  accounted  for  a  delay  which  was  mali- 
ciously interpreted  at  Paris  into  love  for  the  Queen. 
M.  le  Due  was  angry  at  the  idleness  in  which  he  was 
kept;  even  Madame  la  Duchesse,  who  hated  him,  be- 
cause she  had  formerly  loved  him  too  well,  industrious- 
ly circulated  this  report,  which  was  believed  at  Court, 
in  the  city,  even  in  foreign  countries,  everywhere,  save 
in  Spain,  where  the  truth  was  too  well  known.  It  was 
while  he  was  thus  engaged  that  he  gave  utterance  to  a 
pleasantry  that  made  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  Ma- 
dame des  Ursins  his  two  most  bitter  enemies  for  ever 
afterwards. 

One  evening  he  was  at  table  with  several  French  and 
Spanish    gentlemen,    all    occupied    with    his    vexation 


172  Memoirs  of 

against  Madame  des  Ursins,  who  governed  everything, 
and  who  had  not  thought  of  even  the  smallest  thing 
for  the  campaign.  The  supper  and  the  wine  somewhat 
affected  M.  d'Orleans.  Still  full  of  his  vexation,  he 
took  a  glass,  and,  looking  at  the  company,  made  an 
allusion  in  a  toast  to  the  two  women,  one  the  captain, 
the  other  the  lieutenant,  who  governed  France  and 
Spain,  and  that  in  so  coarse  and  yet  humorous  a  man- 
ner, that  it  struck  at  once  the  imagination  of  the  guests. 
No  comment  was  made,  but  everybody  burst  out  laugh- 
ing, sense  of  drollery  overcoming  prudence,  for  it  was 
well  known  that  the  she-captain  was  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  and  the  she-lieutenant  Madame  des  Ursins.  The 
health  was  drunk,  although  the  words  were  not  re- 
peated, and  the  scandal  was  strange. 

Half  an  hour  at  most  after  this,  Madame  des  Ursins 
was  informed  of  what  had  taken  place.  She  knew  well 
who  were  meant  by  the  toast,  and  was  transported  with 
rage.  She  at  once  wrote  an  account  of  the  circum- 
stance to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who.  for  her  part, 
was  quite  as  furious.  Indc  ircc.  They  never  pardoned 
M.  d'Orleans,  and  we  shall  see  how  very  nearly  they 
succeeded  in  compassing  his  death.  Until  then,  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  had  neither  liked  nor  disliked  M. 
d'Orleans.  Madame  des  Ursins  had  omitted  nothing 
in  order  to  please  him.  From  that  moment  they  swore 
the  ruin  of  this  prince.  All  the  rest  of  the  King's  life 
M.  d'Orleans  did  not  fail  to  find  that  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  was  an  implacable  and  cruel  enemy.  The  sad 
state  to  which  she  succeeded  in  reducing  him  influenced 
him  during  all  the  rest  of  his  life.  As  for  Madame  des 
Ursins,  he  soon  found  a  change  in  her  manner.  She 


Saint-Simon  173 

endeavoured  that  everything  should  fail  that  passed 
through  his  hands.  There  are  some  wounds  that  can 
never  be  healed  ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  Duke's 
toast  inflicted  one  especially  of  that  sort.  He  felt  this; 
did  not  attempt  any  reconciliation;  and  followed  his 
usual  course.  I  know  not  if  he  ever  repented  of  what 
he  had  said,  whatever  cause  he  may  have  had,  so  droll 
did  it  seem  to  him,  but  he  has  many  times  spoken  of 
it  since  to  me,  laughing  with  all  his  might.  I  saw  all 
the  sad  results  which  might  arise  from  his  speech,  and 
nevertheless,  while  reproaching  M.  d'Orleans,  I  could 
not  help  laughing  myself,  so  well,  so  simply,  and  so 
wittily  expressed  was  his  ridicule  of  the  government  on 
this  and  the  other  side  of  the  Pyrenees. 

At  last,  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  found  means  to  enter 
upon  his  campaign,  but  was  so  ill-provided,  that  he 
never  was  supplied  with  more  than  a  fortnight's  sub- 
sistence in  advance.  He  obtained  several  small  suc- 
cesses; but  these  were  more  than  swallowed  up  by  a 
fatal  loss  in  another  direction.  The  island  of  Sardinia, 
which  was  then  under  the  Spanish  Crown,  was  lost 
through  the  misconduct  of  the  viceroy,  the  Duke  of 
Yeragua,  and  taken  possession  of  by  the  troops  of  the 
Archduke.  In  the  month  of  October,  the  island  of 
Minorca  also  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Archduke.  Port 
Mahon  made  but  little  resistance;  so  that  with  this  con- 
quest and  Gibraltar,  the  English  found  themselves  able 
to  rule  in  the  Mediterranean,  to  winter  entire  fleets 
there,  and  to  blockade  all  the  ports  of  Spain  upon  that 
sea.  Leaving  Spain  in  this  situation,  let  us  turn  to 
Flanders. 

Early  in  July,  we  took  Ghent  and  Bruges  by  surprise, 


174  Memoirs  of 

and  the  news  of  these  successes  was  received  with  the 
most  unbridled  joy  at  Fontainebleau.  It  appeared  easy 
to  profit  by  these  two  conquests,  obtained  without  dif- 
ficulty, by  passing  the  Escaut,  burning  Oudenarde, 
closing  the  country  to  the  enemies,  and  cutting  them 
off  from  all  supplies.  Ours  were  very  abundant,  and 
came  by  water,  with  a  camp  that  could  not  be  attacked. 
M.  de  Vendome  agreed  to  all  this,  and  alleged  noth- 
ing against  it.  There  was  only  one  difficulty  in  the 
way, — his  idleness  and  unwillingness  to  move  from 
quarters  where  he  was  comfortable.  He  wished  to  en- 
joy those  quarters  as  long  as  possible,  and  maintained, 
therefore,  that  these  movements  would  be  just  as  good 
if  delayed.  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  main- 
tained on  the  contrary,  with  all  the  army — even  the  fa- 
vourites of  M.  de  Vendome — that  it  would  be  better  to 
execute  the  operation  at  once,  that  there  was  no  reason 
for  delay,  and  that  delay  might  prove  disastrous.  He 
argued  in  vain.  Vendome  disliked  fatigue  and  change 
of  quarters.  They  interfered  with  the  daily  life  he  was 
accustomed  to  lead,  and  which  I  have  elsewhere  de- 
scribed. He  would  not  move. 

Marlborough  clearly  seeing  that  M.  de  Vendome  did 
not  at  once  take  advantage  of  his  position,  determined 
to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  do  so.  To  reach  Ouden- 
arde, Marlborough  had  a  journey  to  make  of  twenty- 
five  leagues.  Vendome  was  so  placed  that  he  could 
have  gained  it  in  six  leagues  at  the  most.  Marlbor- 
ough put  himself  in  motion  with  so  much  diligence  that 
he  stole  three  forced  marches  before  Vendome  had  the 
slightest  suspicion  or  information  of  them.  The  news 
reached  him  in  time,  but  he  treated  it  with  contempt 


Saint-Simon  175 

according  to  his  custom,  assuring  himself  that  he  should 
outstrip  the  enemy  by  setting  out  the  next  morning. 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  pressed  him  to  start 
that  evening;  such  as  dared  represented  to  him  the 
necessity  and  the  importance  of  doing  so.  All  was  vain 
— in  spite  of  repeated  information  of  the  enemy's  march. 
The  neglect  was  such  that  bridges  had  not  been  thought 
of  for  a  little  brook  at  the  head  of  the  camp,  which  it 
was  necessary  to  cross. 

On  the  next  day,  Wednesday,  the  nth  of  July,  a 
party  of  our  troops,  under  the  command  of  Biron,  which 
had  been  sent  on  in  advance  to  the  Escaut,  discovered, 
after  passing  it  as  they  could,  for  the  bridges  were  not 
yet  made,  all  the  army  of  the  enemy  bending  round 
towards  them,  the  rear  of  their  columns  touching  at 
Oudenarde,  where  they  also  had  crossed.  Biron  at 
once  despatched  a  messenger  to  the  Princes  and  to  M. 
de  Vendome  to  inform  them  of  this,  and  to  ask  for  or- 
ders. Vendome,  annoyed  by  information  so  different 
to  what  he  expected,  maintained  that  it  could  not  be 
true.  As  he  was  disputing,  an  officer  arrived  from 
Biron  to  confirm  the  news ;  but  this  only  irritated  Ven- 
dome anew,  and  made  him  more  obstinate.  A  third 
messenger  arrived,  and  then  M.  de  Yendome,  still  af- 
fecting disbelief  of  the  news  sent  him,  flew  in  a  pas- 
sion, but  nevertheless  mounted  his  horse,  saying  that 
all  this  was  the  work  of  the  devil,  and  that  such  dili- 
gence was  impossible.  He  sent  orders  to  Biron  to  at- 
tack the  enemy,  promising  to  support  him  immediately. 
He  told  the  Princes,  at  the  same  time,  to  gently  follow 
with  the  whole  of  the  army,  while  he  placed  himself 
at  the  head  of  his  columns,  and  pushed  on  briskly  to 
Biron. 


176  Memoirs  of 

Biron  meanwhile  placed  his  troops  as  well  as  he 
could,  on  ground  very  unequal  and  much  cut  up.  He 
wished  to  execute  the  order  he  had  received,  less  from 
any  hopes  of  success  in  a  combat  so  vastly  dispropor- 
tioned  than  to  secure  himself  from  the  blame  of  a  gen- 
eral so  ready  to  censure  those  who  did  not  follow  his 
instructions.  But  he  was  advised  so  strongly  not  to 
take  so  hazardous  a  step,  that  he  refrained.  Marechal 
Matignon,  who  arrived  soon  after,  indeed  specially  pro- 
hibited him  from  acting. 

While  this  was  passing,  Biron  heard  sharp  firing  on 
his  left,  beyond  the  village.  He  hastened  there,  and 
found  an  encounter  of  infantry  going  on.  He  sustained 
it  as  well  as  he  could,  whilst  the  enemy  were  gaining 
ground  on  the  left,  and,  the  ground  being  difficult  (there 
was  a  ravine  there),  the  enemy  were  kept  at  bay  until 
M.  de  Vendome  came  up.  The  troops  he  brought  were 
all  out  of  breath.  As  soon  as  they  arrived,  they  threw 
themselves  amidst  the  hedges,  nearly  all  in  columns, 
and  sustained  thus  the  attacks  of  the  enemies,  and  an 
engagement  which  every  moment  grew  hotter,  without 
having  the  means  to  arrange  themselves  in  any  order. 
The  columns  that  arrived  from  time  to  time  to  the  re- 
lief of  these  were  as  out  of  breath  as  the  others,  and 
were  at  once  sharply  charged  by  the  enemies,  who,  be- 
ing extended  in  lines  and  in  order,  knew  well  how  to 
profit  by  our  disorder.  The  confusion  was  very  great: 
the  new-comers  had  no  time  to  rally;  there  was  a  long 
interval  between  the  platoons  engaged  and  those  meant 
to  sustain  them;  the  cavalry  and  the  household  troops 
were  mixed  up  pell-mell  with  the  infantry,  which  in- 
creased the  disorder  to  such  a  point  that  our  troops  no 


Saint-Simon  177 

longer  recognised  each  other.  This  enabled  the  enemy 
to  fill  up  the  ravine  with  fascines  sufficient  to  enable 
them  to  pass  it,  and  allowed  the  rear  of  their  army  to 
make  a  grand  tour  by  our  right  to  gain  the  head  of  the 
ravine,  and  take  us  in  flank  there. 

Towards  this  same  right  were  the  Princes,  who  for 
some  time  had  been  looking  from  a  mill  at  so  strange 
a  combat,  so  disadvantageously  commenced.  As  soon 
as  our  troops  saw  pouring  down  upon  them  others 
much  more  numerous,  they  gave  way  towards  their  left 
with  so  much  promptitude  that  the  attendants  of  the 
Princes  became  mixed  up  with  their  masters,  and  all 
were  hurried  away  towards  the  thick  of  the  fight,  with 
a  rapidity  and  confusion  that  were  indecent.  The 
Princes  showed  themselves  everywhere,  and  in  places 
the  most  exposed,  displaying  much  valour  and  cool- 
ness, encouraging  the  men,  praising  the  officers,  asking 
the  principal  officers  what  was  to  be  done,  and  telling 
M.  de  Yendome  what  they  thought. 

The  inequality  of  the  ground  that  the  enemies  found 
in  advancing,  after  having  driven  in  our  right,  enabled 
our  men  to  rally  and  to  resist.  But  this  resistance  was 
of  short  duration.  Every  one  had  been  engaged  in 
hand-to-hand  combats;  every  one  was  worn  out  with 
lassitude  and  despair  of  success,  and  a  confusion  so 
general  and  so  unheard-of.  The  household  troops 
owed  their  escape  to  the  mistake  of  one  of  the  enemy's 
officers,  who  carried  an  order  to  the  red  coats,  think- 
ing them  his  own  men.  He  was  taken,  and  seeing  that 
he  was  about  to  share  the  peril  with  our  troops,  warned 
them  that  they  were  going  to  be  surrounded.  They  re- 
tired in  some  disorder,  and  so  avoided  this. 
VOL.  II.— 12 


178  Memoirs  of 

The  disorder  increased,  however,  every  moment. 
Nobody  recognised  his  troop.  All  were  pell-mell, — 
cavalry,  infantry,  dragoons;  not  a  battalion,  not  a  squad- 
ron together,  and  all  in  confusion,  one  upon  the  other. 

Night  came.  We  had  lost  much  ground,  one-half 
of  the  army  had  not  finished  arriving.  In  this  sad  situ- 
ation the  Princes  consulted  with  M.  de  Vendome  as  to 
what  was  to  be  done.  He,  furious  at  being  so  terribly 
out  of  his  reckoning,  affronted  everybody.  Mon- 
seigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  wished  to  speak;  but 
Vendome,  intoxicated  with  choler  and  authority,  closed 
his  mouth,  by  saying  to  him  in  an  imperious  voice  be- 
fore everybody,  "  That  he  came  to  the  army  only  on 
condition  of  obeying  him."  These  enormous  words, 
pronounced  at  a  moment  in  which  everybody  felt  so 
terribly  the  weight  of  the  obedience  rendered  to  his  idle- 
ness and  obstinacy,  made  everybody  tremble  with  in- 
dignation. The  young  Prince  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dressed, hesitated,  mastered  himself,  and  kept  silence. 
Vendome  went  on  declaring  that  the  battle  was  not  lost 
— that  it  could  be  recommenced  the  next  morning,  when 
the  rest  of  the  army  had  arrived,  and  so  on.  No  one 
of  consequence  cared  to  reply. 

From  every  side  soon  came  information,  however, 
that  the  disorder  was  extreme.  Puysegur,  Matignon, 
Sousternon,  Chelaclet,  Puyguyon,  all  brought  the  same 
news.  Vendome,  seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  resist 
all  this  testimony,  and  beside  himself  with  rage,  cried, 
"Oh,  very  well,  gentlemen!  I  see  clearly  what  you 
wish.  We  must  retire,  then;"  and  looking  at  Mon- 
seigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  he  added,  "  I  know  you 
have  long  wished  to  do  so,  Monseigneur." 


Saint-Simon  179 

These  words,  which  could  not  fail  to  be  taken  in  a 
double  sense,  were  pronounced  exactly  as  I  relate  them, 
and  were  emphasized  in  a  manner  to  leave  no  doubt  as 
to  their  signification.  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne  remained  silent  as  before,  and  for  some  time  the 
silence  was  unbroken.  At  last,  Puysegur  interrupted 
it,  by  asking  how  the  retreat  was  to  be  executed.  Each, 
then,  spoke  confusedly.  Yendome,  in  his  turn,  kept 
silence  from  vexation  or  embarrassment;  then  he  said 
they  must  march  to  Ghent,  without  adding  how,  or  any- 
thing else. 

The  day  had  been  very  fatiguing;  the  retreat  was 
long  and  perilous.  The  Princes  mounted  their  horses, 
and  took  the  road  to  Ghent.  Yendome  set  out  with- 
out giving  any  orders,  or  seeing  to  anything.  The 
general  officers  returned  to  their  posts,  and  of  them- 
selves gave  the  order  fdr  retreat.  Yet  so  great  was 
the  confusion,  that  the  Chevalier  Rosel,  lieutenant-gen- 
eral, at  the  head  of  a  hundred  squadrons,  received  no 
orders.  In  the  morning  he  found  himself  with  his 
hundred  squadrons,  which  had  been  utterly  forgotten. 
He  at  once  commenced  his  march ;  but  to  retreat  in 
full  daylight  was  very  difficult,  as  he  soon  found.  He 
had  to  sustain  the  attacks  of  the  enemy  during  several 
hours  of  his  march. 

Elsewhere,  also,  the  difficult}-  of  retreating  was  great. 
Fighting  went  on  at  various  points  all  night,  and  the 
enemy  were  on  the  alert.  Some  of  the  troops  of  our 
right,  while  debating  as  to  the  means  of  retreat,  found 
they  were  about  to  be  surrounded  by  the  enemy.  The 
Yidame  of  Amiens  saw  that  not  a  moment  was  to  be 
lost.  He  cried  to  the  light  horse,  of  which  he  was 


i8o  Saint-Simon 

captain,  "  Follow  me,"  and  pierced  his  way  through  a 
line  of  the  enemy's  cavalry.  He  then  found  himself  in 
front  of  a  line  of  infantry,  which  fired  upon  him,  but 
opened  to  give  him  passage.  At  the  same  moment, 
the  household  troops  and  others,  profiting  by  a  move- 
ment so  bold,  followed  the  Vidame  and  his  men,  and 
all  escaped  together  to  Ghent,  led  on  by  the  Vidame, 
to  whose  sense  and  courage  the  safety  of  these  troops 
was  owing. 

M.  de  Vendome  arrived  at  Ghent,  between  seven  and 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Even  at  this  moment 
he  did  not  forget  his  disgusting  habits,  and  as  soon  as 
he  set  foot  to  ground  ....  in  sight  of  all  the 
troops  as  they  came  by,- — then  at  once  went  to  bed, 
without  giving  any  orders,  or  seeing  to  anything,  and 
remained  more  than  thirty  hours  without  rising,  in  or- 
der to  repose  himself  after  his  fatigues.  He  learnt  that 
Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne  and  the  army  had  pushed 
on  to  Lawendeghem;  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  it, 
and  continued  to  sup  and  to  sleep  at  Ghent  several  days 
running,  without  attending  to  anything. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Conflicting  Reports — Attacks  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — The 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  Acts  against  Vendome — Weakness 
of  the  Duke — Cunning  of  Vendome— The  Siege  of  Lille — 
Anxiety  for  a  Battle — Its  Delay— Conduct  of  the  King  and 
Monseigneur — A  Picture  of  Royal  Family  Feeling — Conduct 
of  the  Marechal  de  Boufrlers. 

AS  soon  as  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  ar- 
rived at  Lawendeghem,  he  wrote  a  short  letter 
to  the  King,  and  referred  him  for  details  to  M.  de  Yen- 
dome.  But  at  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  the  Duchess, 
very  clearly  expressing  to  her  where  the  fault  lay.  M. 
de  Yendume,  on  his  side,  wrote  to  the  King,  and  tried 
to  persuade  him  that  the  battle  had  not  been  disad- 
vantageous to  us.  A  short  time  afterwards,  he  wrote 
again,  telling  the  King  that  he  could  have  beaten  the 
enemies  had  he  been  sustained ;  and  that,  if,  contrary 
to  his  advice,  retreat  had  not  been  determined  on,  he 
would  certainly  have  beaten  them  the  next  day.  For 
the  details  he  referred  to  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne. 

I  had  always  feared  that  some  ill-fortune  would  fall 
to  the  lot  of  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  if  he 
served  under  M.  de  Yendome  at  the  army.  When  I 
first  learnt  that  he  was  going  to  Flanders  with  M.  de 

181 


1 82  Memoirs  of 

Vendome,  I  expressed  my  apprehensions  to  M.  de 
Beauvilliers,  who  treated  them  as  unreasonable  and 
ridiculous.  He  soon  had  good  cause  to  admit  that  I 
had  not  spoken  without  justice.  Our  disasters  at 
Oudenarde  were  very  great.  We  had  many  men  and 
officers  killed  and  wounded,  four  thousand  men  and 
seven  hundred  officers  taken  prisoners,  and  a  pro- 
digious quantity  missing  and  dispersed.  All  these 
losses  were,  as  I  have  shown,  entirely  due  to  the  lazi- 
ness and  inattention  of  M.  de  Vendome.  Yet  the 
friends  of  that  general — and  he  had  many  at  the  Court 
and  in  the  army — actually  had  the  audacity  to  lay  the 
blame  upon  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  This 
was  what  I  had  foreseen,  viz.,  M.  de  Vendome,  in  case 
any  misfortune  occurred,  would  be  sure  to  throw  the 
burden  of  it  upon  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne. 
Alberoni,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  one  of  M.  de 
Vendome's  creatures,  published  a  deceitful  and  impu- 
dent letter,  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  prove  that  M. 
de  Vendome  had  acted  throughout  like  a  good  general, 
but  that  he  had  been  thwarted  by  Monseigneur  le  Due 
de  Bourgogne.  This  letter  was  distributed  everywhere, 
and  well  served  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  intended. 
Another  writer,  Campistron — a  poor,  starving  poet, 
ready  to  do  anything  to  live — went  further.  He  wrote 
a  letter,  in  which  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne 
was  personally  attacked  in  the  tenderest  points,  and 
in  which  A'larechal  Matignon  was  said  to  merit  a  court- 
martial  for  having  counselled  retreat.  This  letter,  like 
the  other,  although  circulated  with  more  precaution, 
was  shown  even  in  the  cafes  and  in  the  theatres ;  in 
the  public  places  of  gambling  and  debauchery;  on 


Saint-Simon  183 

the  promenades,  and  amongst  the  newsvendors. 
Copies  of  it  were  even  shown  in  the  provinces,  and  in 
foreign  countries ;  but  always  with  much  circumspec- 
tion. Another  letter  soon  afterwards  appeared,  apolo- 
gising for  M.  de  Vendome.  This  was  written  by 
Comte  d'Evreux,  and  was  of  much  the  same  tone  as 
the  two  others. 

A  powerful  cabal  was  in  fact  got  up  against  Mon- 
seigneur  de  Bourgogne.  Vaudeville,  verses,  atrocious 
songs  against  him,  ran  all  over  Paris  and  the  provinces 
with  a  licence  and  a  rapidity  that  no  one  checked ; 
while  at  the  Court,  the  libertines  and  the  fashionables 
applauded  ;  so  that  in  six  days  it  was  thought  disgrace- 
ful to  speak  with  any  measure  of  this  Prince,  even  in 
his  father's  house. 

Madame  de  Bourgogne  could  not  witness  all  this 
uproar  against  her  husband,  without  feeling  sensibly 
affected  by  it.  She  had  been  made  acquainted  by  Mon- 
seigneur  de  Bourgogne  with  the  true  state  of  the  case. 
She  saw  her  own  happiness  and  reputation  at  stake. 
Though  very  gentle,  and  still  more  timid,  the  grandeur 
of  the  occasion  raised  her  above  herself.  She  was 
cruelly  wounded  by  the  insults  of  Vendome  to  her 
husband,  and  by  all  the  atrocities  and  falsehoods  his 
emissaries  published.  She  gained  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  and  the  first  result  of  this  step  was,  that  the 
King  censured  Chamillart  for  not  speaking  of  the  let- 
ters in  circulation,  and  ordered  him  to  write  to  Al- 
beroni  and  D'Evreux  (Campistron,  strangely  enough, 
was  forgotten),  commanding  them  to  keep  silence  for 
the  future. 

The  cabal  was  amazed  to  see  Madame  de  Main- 


184  Memoirs  of 

tenon  on  the  side  of  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  while 
M.  du  Maine  (who  was  generally  in  accord  with  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon)  was  for  M.  de  Vendome.  They 
concluded  that  the  King  had  been  led  away,  but  that 
if  they  held  firm,  his  partiality  for  M.  de  Vendome,  for 
M.  du  Maine,  and  for  bastardy  in  general,  would  bring 
him  round  to  them.  In  point  of  fact,  the  King  was  led 
now  one  way,  and  now  another,  with  a  leaning  always 
towards  M.  de  Vendome. 

Soon  after  this,  Chamillart,  who  was  completely  of 
the  party  of  M.  de  Vendome,  thought  fit  to  write  a 
letter  to  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  in  which 
he  counselled  him  to  live  on  good  terms  with  his  gen- 
eral. Madame  de  Bourgogne  never  forgave  Chamillart 
this  letter,  and  was  always  annoyed  with  her  husband 
that  he  acted  upon  it.  His  religious  sentiments  in- 
duced him  to  do  so.  Vendome  so  profited  by  the  ad- 
vances made  to  him  by  the  young  Prince,  that  he  au- 
daciously brought  Alberoni  with  him  \vhen  he  visited 
Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne.  This  weakness  of  Mon- 
seigneur de  Bourgogne  lost  him  many  friends,  and 
made  his  enemies  more  bold  than  ever.  Madame  de 
Bourgogne,  however,  did  not  despair.  She  wrote  to 
her  husband  that  for  M.  de  Vendome  she  had  more 
aversion  and  contempt  than  for  any  one  else  in  the 
world,  and  that  nothing  would  make  her  forget  what 
he  had  done.  We  shall  see  with  \vhat  courage  she 
knew  how  to  keep  her  word. 

While  the  discussions  upon  the  battle  of  Oudenarde 
were  yet  proceeding,  a  league  was  formed  with  France 
against  the  Emperor  by  all  the  states  of  Italy.  The 
King  (Louis  XIV.)  accepted,  however,  too  late,  a  pro]- 


Saint-Simon  185 

ect  he  himself  ought  to  have  proposed  and  executed. 
He  lost  perhaps  the  most  precious  opportunity  he  had 
had  during  all  his  reign.  The  step  he  at  last  took  was 
so  apparent  that  it  alarmed  the  allies,  and  put  them 
on  their  guard.  Except  Flanders,  they  did  nothing  in 
any  other  spot,  and  turned  all  their  attention  to  Italy. 

Let  us  return,  however,  to  Flanders. 

Prince  Eugene,  with  a  large  booty  gathered  in  Ar- 
tois  and  elsewhere,  had  fixed  himself  at  Brussels.  He 
wished  to  bear  off  his  spoils,  which  required  more  than 
five  thousand  waggons  to  carry  it,  and  which  consisted 
in  great  part  of  provisions,  worth  three  million  five 
hundred  thousand  francs,  and  set  out  with  them  to 
join  the  army  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  Our 
troops  could  not,  of  course,  be  in  ignorance  of  this. 
M.  de  Yendome  wished  to  attack  the  convoy  with  half 
his  troops.  The  project  seemed  good,  and,  in  case  of 
success,  would  have  brought  results  equally  honour- 
able and  useful.  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne,  how- 
ever, opposed  the  attack,  I  know  not  why  ;  and  M.  de 
Yendome,  so  obstinate  until  then,  gave  in  to  him  in 
this  case.  His  object  was  to  ruin  the  Prince  utterly, 
for  allowing  such  a  good  chance  to  escape,  the  blame 
resting  entirely  upon  him.  Obstinacy  and  audacity 
had  served  M.  de  Yendome  at  Oudenarde :  he  ex- 
pected no  less  a  success  now  from  his  deference. 

Some  anxiety  was  felt  just  about  this  time  for  Lille, 
which  it  was  feared  the  enemy  would  lay  siege  to. 
Boufflers  went  to  command  there,  at  his  own  request, 
and  found  the  place  very  ill-garrisoned  with  raw  troops, 
many  of  whom  had  never  smelt  powder.  M.  de  Yen- 
dome,  however,  laughed  at  the  idea  of  the  siege  of 


1 86  Memoirs  of 

Lille,  as  something  mad  and  ridiculous.  Nevertheless, 
the  town  was  invested  on  the  I2th  of  August,  as  the 
King  duly  learned  on  the  I4th.  Even  then,  flattery 
did  its  work.  The  friends  of  Vendome  declared  that 
such  an  enterprise  was  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  France,  as  the  besiegers,  inferior  in  numbers  to  our 
army,  were  sure  to  be  miserably  beaten.  AI.  de  Ven- 
dome, in  the  mean  time,  did  not  budge  from  the  post 
he  had  taken  up  near  Ghent.  The  King  wrote  to  him 
to  go  with  his  army  to  the  relief  of  Lille.  M.  de  Ven- 
dome still  delayed ;  another  courier  was  sent,  with  the 
same  result.  At  this,  the  King,  losing  temper,  de- 
spatched another  courier,  with  orders  to  Monseigneur 
de  Bourgogne,  to  lead  the  army  to  Lille,  if  M.  de  Ven- 
dome refused  to  do  so.  At  this,  M.  de  Vendome  awoke 
from  his  lethargy.  He  set  out  for  Lille,  but  took  the 
longest  road,  and  dawdled  as  long  as  he  could  on  the 
way,  stopping  five  days  at  Mons  Puenelle,  amongst 
other  places. 

The  agitation,  meanwhile,  in  Paris,  was  extreme. 
The  King  demanded  news  of  the  siege  from  his  cour- 
tiers, and  could  not  understand  why  no  couriers  ar- 
rived. It  was  generally  expected  that  some  decisive 
battle  had  been  fought.  Each  day  increased  the  un- 
easiness. The  Princes  and  the  principal  noblemen 
of  the  Court  were  at  the  army.  Every  one  at  Versailles 
feared  for  the  safety  of  a  relative  or  friend.  Prayers 
were  offered  everywhere.  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
passed  whole  nights  in  the  chapel,  when  people 
thought  her  in  bed,  and  drove  her  women  to  despair. 
Following  her  example,  ladies  who  had  husbands  at 
the  army  stirred  not  from  the  churches.  Gaming,  con- 


Saint-Simon  187 

versation  ceased.  Fear  was  painted  upon  every  face, 
and  seen  in  every  speech,  without  shame.  If  a  horse 
passed  a  little  quickly,  everybody  ran  without  know- 
ing where.  The  apartments  of  Chamillart  were 
crowded  with  lackeys,  even  into  the  street,  sent  by 
people  desiring  to  be  informed  of  the  moment  that  a 
courier  arrived ;  and  this  terror  and  uncertainty  lasted 
nearly  a  month.  The  provinces  were  even  more 
troubled  than  Paris.  The  King  wrote  to  the  Bishop, 
in  order  that  they  should  offer  up  prayers  in  terms 
which  suited  with  the  danger  of  the  time.  It  may  be 
judged  what  was  the  general  impression  and  alarm. 

It  is  true,  that  in  the  midst  of  this  trepidation,  the 
partisans  of  M.  de  Yendome  affected  to  pity  that  poor 
Prince  Eugene,  and  to  declare  that  he  must  inevitably 
fail  in  his  undertaking;  but  these  discourses  did  not 
impose  upon  me.  I  knew  what  kind  of  enemies  we 
had  to  deal  with,  and  I  foresaw  the  worst  results  from 
the  idleness  and  inattention  of  M.  de  Vendome.  One 
evening,  in  the  presence  of  Chamillart  and  five  or  six 
others,  annoyed  by  the  conversation  which  passed,  I 
offered  to  bet  four  pistoles  that  there  would  be  no 
general  battle,  and  that  Lille  would  be  taken  without 
being  relieved.  This  strange  proposition  excited  much 
surprise,  and  caused  many  questions  to  be  addressed 
to  me.  I  would  explain  nothing  at  all ;  but  sustained 
my  proposal  in  the  English  manner,  and  my  bet  wras 
taken ;  Cani,  who  accepted  it,  thanking  me  for  the 
present  of  four  pistoles  I  was  making  him,  as  he  said. 
The  stakes  were  placed  in  the  hand  of  Chamillart. 

By  the  next  day,  the  news  of  my  bet  had  spread 
abroad,  and  made  a  frightful  uproar.  The  partisans 


1 88  Memoirs  of 

of  M.  de  Vendome,  knowing  I  was  no  friend  to  them, 
took  this  opportunity  to  damage  me  in  the  eyes  of  the 
King.  They  so  far  succeeded  that  I  entirely  lost  favour 
with  him,  without  however  suspecting  it,  for  more  than 
two  months.  All  that  I  could  do  then,  was  to  let  the 
storm  pass  over  my  head  and  keep  silent,  so  as  not  to 
make  matters  worse. 

Meanwhile,  M.  de  Vendome  continued  the  inactive 
policy  he  had  hitherto  followed.  In  despite  of  reit- 
erated advice  from  the  King,  he  took  no  steps  to  attack 
the  enemy.  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne  was  for  do- 
ing so,  but  Vendome  would  make  no  movement.  As 
before,  too,  he  contrived  to  throw  all  the  blame  of  his 
inactivity  upon  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne.  He  suc- 
ceeded so  well  in  making  this  believed,  that  his  fol- 
lowers in  the  army  cried  out  against  the  followers  of 
Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne  wherever  they  appeared. 
Chamillart  was  sent  by  the  King  to  report  upon  the 
state  and  position  of  our  troops,  and  if  a  battle  had 
taken  place  and  proved  unfavourable  to  us,  to  prevent 
such  sad  results  as  had  taken  place  after  Ramillies. 

Chamillart  came  back  on  the  i8th  of  September. 
No  battle  had  been  fought,  but  M.  de  Vendome  felt 
sure,  he  said,  of  cutting  off  all  supplies  from  the  en- 
emy, and  thus  compelling  them  to  raise  the  siege. 

The  King  had  need  of  these  intervals  of  consolation 
and  hope.  Master  as  he  might  be  of  his  words  and  of 
his  features,  he  profoundly  felt  the  powerlessness  to  re- 
sist his  enemies  that  he  fell  into  day  by  day.  What  I 
have  related  about  Samuel  Bernard,  the  banker,  to 
whom  he  almost  did  the  honours  of  his  gardens  at 
Marlv,  in  order  to  draw  from  him  the  assistance  he 


Saint-Simon  189 

had  refused,  is  a  great  proof  of  this.  It  was  much 
remarked  at  Fontainebleau,  just  as  Lille  was  invested, 
that,  the  city  of  Paris  coming  to  harangue  him  on  the 
occasion  of  the  oath  taken  by  Bignon,  new  Prevot  des 
Marchands,  he  replied,  not  only  with  kindness,  but  that 
he  made  use  of  the  term  "  gratitude  for  his  good  city," 
and  that  in  doing  so  he  lost  countenance, — two  things 
which  during  all  his  reign  had  never  escaped  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  sometimes  had  intervals  of  firm- 
ness which  edified  less  than  they  surprised.  When 
everybody  at  the  Court  was  in  the  anxiety  I  have  al- 
ready described,  he  offended  them  by  going  out  every 
day  hunting  or  walking,  so  that  they  could  not  know, 
until  after  his  return,  the  news  which  might  arrive 
when  he  was  out. 

As  for  Monseigneur,  he  seemed  altogether  exempt 
from  anxiety.  After  Ramillies,  when  everybody  was 
waiting  for  the  return  of  Chamillart,  to  learn  the  truth, 
Mouseigneur  went  away  to  dine  at  Meudon,  saying 
he  should  learn  the  news  soon  enough.  From  this 
time  he  showed  no  more  interest  in  what  was  passing. 
When  news  was  brought  that  Lille  was  invested,  he 
turned  on  his  heel  before  the  letter  announcing  it  had 
been  read  to  the  end.  The  King  called  him  back  to 
hear  the  rest.  He  returned  and  heard  it.  The  reading 
finished,  he  went  away,  without  offering  a  word.  En- 
tering the  apartments  of  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  he 
found  there  Madame  d'Espinoy,  who  had  much  prop- 
erty in  Flanders,  and  who  had  wished  to  take  a  trip 
there. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  smiling,  as  he  arrived,  "  how 
would  you  do  just  now  to  get  to  Lille  ?  "  And  at  once 


190  Memoirs  of 

made  them  acquainted  with  the  investment.  These 
things  really  wounded  the  Princesse  de  Conti.  Ar- 
riving at  Fontainebleau  one  day,  during  the  move- 
ments of  the  army,  Monseigneur  set  to  work  reciting, 
for  amusement,  a  long  list  of  strange  names  of  places 
in  the  forest. 

"  Dear  me,  Monseigneur,"  cried  she,  "  what  a  good 
memory  you  have.  What  a  pity  it  is  loaded  with  such 
things  only  !  ''  If  he  felt  the  reproach,  he  did  not  profit 
by  it. 

As  for  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  Mon- 
seigneur (his  father)  was  ill-disposed  towards  him,  and 
readily  swallowed  all  that  was  said  in  his  dispraise. 
Monseigneur  had  no  sympathy  with  the  piety  of  his 
son  ;  it  constrained  and  bothered  him.  The  cabal  well 
profited  by  this.  They  succeeded  to  such  an  extent  in 
alienating  the  father  from  the  son,  that  it  is  only  strict 
truth  to  say  that  no  one  dared  to  speak  well  of  Mon- 
seigneur le  Due  de  Bourgogne  in  the  presence  of  Mon- 
seigneur. From  this  it  may  be  imagined  what  was  the 
licence  and  freedom  of  speech  elsewhere  against  this 
Prince.  They  reached  such  a  point,  indeed,  that  the 
King,  not  daring  to  complain  publicly  against  the 
Prince  dc  Conti,  who  hated  Vendome,  for  speaking  in 
favour  of  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne,  reprimanded 
him  sharply  in  reality  for  having  done  so,  but  ostensi- 
bly because  he  had  talked  about  the  affairs  of  Flanders 
at  his  sister's.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  did  all  she  could 
to  turn  the  current  that  was  setting  in  against  her  hus- 
band; and  in  this  she  was  assisted  by  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  who  was  annoyed  to  the  last  degree  to  see 
that  other  people  had  more  influence  over  the  King 
than  she  had. 


Saint-Simon  191 

The  siege  of  Lille  meanwhile  continued,  and  at  last 
it  began  to  be  seen  that,  instead  of  attempting  to  fight 
a  grand  battle,  the  wisest  course  would  be  to  throw 
assistance  into  the  place.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
do  so,  but  it  was  now  too  late. 

The  besieged,  under  the  guidance  of  Marechal  Bouf- 
flers,  who  watched  over  all,  and  attended  to  all,  in  a 
manner  that  gained  him  all  hearts,  made  a  gallant  and 
determined  resistance.  A  volume  would  be  necessary 
in  order  to  relate  all  the  marvels  of  capacity  and  valour 
displayed  in  this  defence.  Our  troops  disputed  the 
ground  inch  by  inch.  They  repulsed,  three  times  run- 
ning, the  enemy  from  a  mill,  took  it  the  third  time,  and 
burnt  it.  They  sustained  an  attack,  in  three  places  at 
once,  of  ten  thousand  men,  from  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening  to  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  without  giving 
way.  They  re-captured  the  sole  traverse  the  enemy 
had  been  able  to  take  from  them.  They  drove  out  the 
besiegers  from  the  projecting  angles  of  the  counter- 
scarp, which  they  had  kept  possession  of  for  eight 
days.  They  twice  repulsed  seven  thousand  men  who 
attacked  their  covered  way  and  an  outwork  ;  at  the 
third  attack  they  lost  an  angle  of  the  outwork,  but 
remained  masters  of  all  the  rest. 

So  many  attacks  and  engagements  terribly  weak- 
ened the  garrison.  On  the  28th  of  September  some 
assistance  was  sent  to  the  besieged  by  the  daring  of 
the  Chevalier  de  Luxembourg.  It  enabled  them  to 
sustain  with  vigour  the  fresh  attacks  that  were  di- 
rected against  them,  to  repulse  the  enemy,  and,  by  a 
grand  sortie,  to  damage  some  of  their  works,  and  kill 
manv  of  their  men.  But  all  was  in  vain.  The  enemv 


1 92  Memoirs  of 

returned  again  and  again  to  the  attack.  Every  at- 
tempt to  cut  off  their  supplies  failed.  Finally,  on  the 
23rd  of  October,  a  capitulation  was  signed.  The  place 
had  become  untenable ;  three  new  breaches  had  been 
made  on  the  2Oth  and  2ist;  powder  and  ammunition 
were  failing;  the  provisions  were  almost  all  eaten  up: 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  give  in. 

Marechal  Boufflers  obtained  all  he  asked,  and  re- 
tired into  the  citadel  with  all  the  prisoners  of  war, 
after  two  months  of  resistance.  He  offered  discharge 
to  all  the  soldiers  who  did  not  wish  to  enter  the  citadel. 
But  not  one  of  the  six  thousand  he  had  left  to  him  ac- 
cepted it.  They  were  all  ready  for  a  new  resistance, 
and  wrhen  their  chief  appeared  among  them  their  joy 
burst  out  in  the  most  flattering  praises  of  him.  It  was 
on  Friday,  the  26th  of  October,  that  they  shut  them- 
selves up  in  the  citadel. 

The  enemy  opened  their  trenches  before  the  citadel 
on  the  29th  of  October.  On  the  7th  of  November  they 
made  a  grand  attack,  but  were  repulsed  with  consider- 
able loss.  But  they  did  not  flinch  from  their  work, 
and  Boufflers  began  to  see  that  he  could  not  long  hold 
out.  By  the  commencement  of  December  he  had  only 
twenty  thousand  pounds  of  powder  left ;  very  little  of 
other  munitions,  and  still  less  food.  In  the  town  and 
the  citadel  they  had  eaten  eight  hundred  horses.  Bouf- 
flers, as  soon  as  the  others  were  reduced  to  this  food, 
had  it  served  upon  his  own  table,  and  ate  of  it  like  the 
rest.  The  King,  learning  in  what  state  these  soldiers 
were,  personally  sent  word  to  Boufflers  to  surrender, 
but  the  Marechal,  even  after  he  had  received  this 
order,  delayed  many  days  to  obey  it. 


Saint-Simon 


193 


At  last,  in  want  of  the  commonest  necessaries,  and 
able  to  protract  his  defence  no  longer,  he  beat  a  parley, 
signed  a  capitulation  on  the  9th  of  December,  obtain- 
ing all  he  asked,  and  retired  from  Lille.  Prince 
Eugene,  to  whom  he  surrendered,  treated  him  with 
much  distinction  and  friendship,  invited  him  to  dinner 
several  times, — overwhelmed  him,  in  fact,  with  atten- 
tion and  civilities.  The  Prince  was  glad  indeed  to  have 
brought  to  a  successful  issue  such  a  difficult  siege. 


VOL.  II. — 13 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Equivocal  Position  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — His  Weak  Con- 
duct— Concealment  of  a  Battle  from  the  King — Return  of 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  Court — Incidents  of  His  Recep- 
tion —  Monseigneur  —  Reception  of  the  Due  de  Berry  — 
Behaviour  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne — Anecdotes  of  Ga- 
maches — Return  of  Vendome  to  Court — His  Star  Begins 
to  Wane — Contrast  of  Boufflers  and  Vendome — Chamil- 
lart's  Project  for  Retaking  Lille — How  It  Was  Defeated  by 
Madame  de  Maintenon. 

THE  position  of  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne 
at  the  army  continued  to  be  equivocal.  He  was 
constantly  in  collision  with  M.  de  Vendome.  The  lat- 
ter, after  the  loss  of  Lille,  wished  to  defend  the  Escaut, 
without  any  regard  to  its  extent  of  forty  miles.  The 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  as  far  as  he  dared,  took  the  part 
of  Berwick,  who  maintained  that  the  defence  was  im- 
possible. The  King,  hearing  of  all  these  disputes,  act- 
ually sent  Chamillart  to  the  army  to  compose  them; 
and  it  was  a  curious  sight  to  behold  this  penman,  this 
financier,  acting  as  arbiter  between  generals  on  the 
most  delicate  operations  of  war.  Chamillart  continued 
to  admire  Vendome,  and  treated  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
with  little  respect,  both  at  the  army,  and,  after  his  re- 
turn, in  conversation  with  the  King.  His  report  was 
given  in  presence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  lis- 

194 


Saint-Simon  195 

tened  without  daring  to  say  a  word,  and  repeated  every- 
thing to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  We  may  im- 
agine what  passed  between  them,  and  the  anger  of  the 
Princess  against  the  minister.  For  the  present,  how- 
ever, nothing  could  be  done.  Berwick  was  soon  after- 
wards almost  disgraced.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  M. 
de  Vendome  wrote  to  the  King,  saying,  that  he  was 
sure  of  preventing  the  enemy  from  passing  the  Escaut 
— that  he  answered  for  it  on  his  head.  \Yith  such  a 
guarantee  from  a  man  in  such  favour  at  Court,  who 
could  doubt?  Yet,  shortly  after,  Marlborough  crossed 
the  Escaut  in  four  places,  and  Vendome  actually  wrote 
to  the  King,  begging  him  to  remember  that  he  had 
always  declared  the  defence  of  the  Escaut  to  be  im- 
possible! 

The  cabal  made  a  great  noise  to  cover  this  mon- 
strous audacity,  and  endeavoured  to  renew  the  attack 
against  the  Due  de  Bourgogne.  We  shall  see  what 
success  attended  their  efforts.  The  army  was  at  Sois- 
sons,  near  Tournai,  in  a  profound  tranquillity,  the 
opium  of  which  had  gained  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
when  news  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy  was  brought. 
M.  de  Vendome  advanced  in  that  direction,  and  sent 
word  to  the  Duke,  that  he  thought  he  ought  to  advance 
on  the  morrow  with  all  his  army.  The  Duke  was  going 
to  bed  when  he  received  the  letter;  and  although  it  was 
too  late  to  repulse  the  enemy,  was  much  blamed  for 
continuing  to  undress  himself,  and  putting  off  action 
till  the  morrow. 

To  this  fault  he  added  another.  He  had  eaten;  it 
was  very  early;  and  it  was  no  longer  proper  to  march. 
It  was  necessary  to  wait  fresh  orders  from  M.  de  Ven- 


196  Memoirs  of 

dome.  Tournai  was  near.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne 
went  there  to  have  a  game  at  tennis.  This  sudden 
party  of  pleasure  strongly  scandalized  the  army,  and 
raised  all  manner  of  unpleasant  talk.  Advantage  was 
taken  of  the  young  Prince's  imprudence  to  throw  upon 
him  the  blame  of  what  was  caused  by  the  negligence 
of  M.  de  Vendome. 

A  serious  and  disastrous  action  that  took  place  dur- 
ing these  operations  was  actually  kept  a  secret  from 
the  King,  until  the  Due  de  la  Tremoille,  whose  son 
was  engaged  there,  let  out  the  truth.  Annoyed  that 
the  King  said  nothing  to  him  on  the  way  in  which  his 
son  had  distinguished  himself,  he  took  the  opportunity, 
whilst  he  was  serving  the  King,  to  talk  of  the  passage 
of  the  Escaut,  and  said  that  his  son's  regiment  had 
much  suffered.  "  How,  suffered?  "  cried  the  King; 
"  nothing  has  happened."  Whereupon  the  Duke  re- 
lated all  to  him.  The  King  listened  with  the  greatest 
attention,  and  questioned  him,  and  admitted  before 
everybody  that  he  knew  nothing  of  all  this.  His  sur- 
prise, and  the  surprise  it  occasioned,  may  be  imagined. 

It  happened  that  when  the  King  left  table,  Chamillart 
unexpectedly  came  into  his  cabinet.  He  was  soon 
asked  about  the  action  of  the  Escaut,  and  why  it  had 
not  been  reported.  The  minister,  embarrassed,  said 
that  it  was  a  thing  of  no  consequence.  The  King  con- 
tinued to  press  him,  mentioned  details,  and  talked  of 
the  regiment  of  the  Prince  of  Tarento.  Chamillart 
then  admitted  that  what  happened  at  the  passage  was 
so  disagreeable,  and  the  combat  so  disagreeable,  but  so 
little  important,  that  Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  whom 
he  had  reported  all,  had  thought  it  best  not  to  trouble 


Saint-Simon  197 

the  King  upon  the  matter,  and  it  had  accordingly  been 
agreed  not  to  trouble  him.  Upon  this  singular  answer 
the  King  stopped  short  in  his  questions,  and  said  not 
a  word  more. 

The  Escaut  being  forced,  the  citadel  of  Lille  on  the 
point  of  being  taken,  our  army  exhausted  with  fatigue 
was  at  last  dispersed,  to  the  scandal  of  everybody;  for 
it  was  known  that  Ghent  was  about  to  be  besieged. 
The  Princes  received  orders  to  return  to  Court,  but  they 
insisted  on  the  propriety  of  remaining  with  the  army. 
M.  de  Vendome,  who  began  to  fear  the  effect  of  his 
rashness  and  insolence,  tried  to  obtain  permission 
to  pass  the  winter  with  the  army  on  the  frontier.  He 
was  not  listened  to.  The  Princes  received  orders  most 
positively  to  return  to  Court,  and  accordingly  set  out. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  was  very  anxious  about 
the  way  in  which  the  Duke  was  to  be  received,  and  eager 
to  talk  to  him  and  explain  how  matters  stood,  before 
he  saw  the  King  or  anybody  else.  I  sent  a  message  to 
him  that  he  ought  to  contrive  to  arrive  after  midnight, 
in  order  to  pass  two  or  three  hours  with  the  Duchess, 
and  perhaps  see  Madame  de  Maintenon  early  in  the 
morning.  My  message  was  not  received;  at  any  rate 
not  followed.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne  arrived  on  the 
nth  of  December,  a  little  after  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  just  as  Monseigneur  had  gone  to  the  play, 
whither  the  Duchess  had  not  gone,  in  order  to  wait 
for  her  husband.  I  know  not  why  he  alighted  in  the 
Cotir  des  Princes,  instead  of  the  Great  Court.  I  was 
put  then  in  the  apartments  of  the  Comtessc  de  Roncy, 
from  which  I  could  see  all  that  passed.  I  came  down, 
and  saw  the  Prince  ascending  the  steps  between  the 


198  Memoirs  of 

Dues  dc  Beauvilliers  and  De  la  Rocheguyon,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  there.  He  looked  quite  satisfied,  was  gay, 
and  laughing,  and  spoke  right  and  left.  I  bowed  to 
him.  He  did  me  the  honour  to  embrace  me  in  a  way 
that  showed  me  he  knew  better  what  was  going  on 
than  how  to  maintain  his  dignity.  He  then  talked  only 
to  me,  and  whispered  that  he  knew  what  I  had  said. 
A  troop  of  courtiers  met  him.  In  their  midst  he  passed 
the  Great  Hall  of  the  Guards,  and  instead  of  going  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon's  by  the  private  door,  though 
the  nearest  way,  went  to  the  great  public  entrance. 
There  was  no  one  there  but  the  King  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  with  Pontchartrain;  for  I  do  not  count  the 
Dnchesse  de  Bourgogne.  Pontchartrain  noted  well 
what  passed  at  the  interview,  and  related  it  all  to  me  that 
very  evening. 

As  soon  as  in  Madame  de  Maintenon's  apartment 
was  heard  the  rumour  which  usually  precedes  such  an 
arrival,  the  King  became  sufficiently  embarrassed  to 
change  countenance  several  times.  The  Duchesse  de 
Bonrgogne  appeared  somewhat  tremulous,  and  flut- 
tered about  the  room  to  hide  her  trouble,  pretending 
not  to  know  exactly  by  which  door  the  Prince  would 
arrive.  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  thoughtful.  Sud- 
denly all  the  doors  flew  open:  the  young  Prince  ad- 
vanced towards  the  King,  who,  master  of  himself,  more 
than  any  one  ever  was,  lost  at  once  all  embarrassment, 
took  two  or  three  steps  towards  his  grandson,  embraced 
him  with  some  demonstration  of  tenderness,  spoke  of 
his  voyage,  and  then  pointing  to  the  Princess,  said, 
with  a  smiling  countenance:  "  Do  you  say  nothing  to 
her  ?  "  The  Prince  turned  a  moment  towards  her,  and 


Saint-Simon  199 

answered  respectfully,  as  if  he  dared  not  turn  away 
from  the  King,  and  did  not  move.  He  then  saluted 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  received  him  well.  Talk 
of  travel,  beds,  roads,  and  so  forth,  lasted,  all  standing, 
some  half-quarter  of  an  hour;  then  the  King  said  it 
would  not  be  fair  to  deprive  him  any  longer  of  the 
pleasure  of  being  alone  with  Madame  la  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne,  and  that  they  would  have  time  enough  to 
see  each  other.  The  Prince  made  a  bow  to  the  King, 
another  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  passed  before  the 
few  ladies  of  the  palace  who  had  taken  courage  to  put 
their  heads  into  the  room,  entered  the  neighbouring 
cabinet,  where  he  embraced  the  Duchess,  saluted  the 
ladies  who  were  there,  that  is,  kissed  them,  remained  a 
few  moments,  and  then  went  into  his  apartment,  where 
he  shut  himself  up  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 

Their  tete-a-tetc  lasted  two  hours  and  more:  just  tow- 
ards the  end,  Madame  d'O  was  let  in;  soon  after  the 
Marechale  d'Estrees  entered,  and  soon  after  that  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  came  out  with  them,  and 
returned  into  the  great  cabinet  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon.  Monseigneur  came  there  as  usual,  on  return- 
ing from  the  comedy.  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne, troubled  that  the  Duke  did  not  hurry  himself  to 
come  and  salute  his  father,  went  to  fetch  him,  and  came 
back  saying  that  he  was  putting  on  his  powder;  but 
observing  that  Monseigneur  was  little  satisfied  with  this 
want  of  eagerness,  sent  again  to  hurry  him.  Just  then 
the  Marechale  d'Estrees,  hair-brained  and  light,  and 
free  to  say  just  what  came  into  her  head,  began  to  at- 
tack Monseigneur  for  waiting  so  tranquilly  for  his  son, 
instead  of  going  himself  to  embrace  him.  This  ran- 


2oo  Memoirs  of 

dom  expression  did  not  succeed.  Monseigneur  replied 
stiffly  that  it  was  not  for  him  to  seek  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne;  but  the  duty  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  seek 
him.  He  came  at  last.  The  reception  was  pretty  good, 
but  did  not  by  any  means  equal  that  of  the  King.  Al- 
most immediately  the  King  rang,  and  everybody  went 
to  the  supper-room. 

During  the  supper,  M.  le  Due  de  Berry  arrived,  and 
came  to  salute  the  King  at  table.  To  greet  him  all 
hearts  opened.  The  King  embraced  him  very  ten- 
derly. Monseigneur  only  looked  at  him  tenderly, 
not  daring  to  embrace  his  (youngest)  son  in  pres- 
ence of  the  King.  All  present  courted  him.  He 
remained  standing  near  the  King  all  the  rest  of  the 
supper,  and  there  was  no  talk  save  of  post-horses,  of 
roads,  and  such  like  trifles.  The  King  spoke  sufficient- 
ly at  table  to  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne;  but 
to  the  Due  de  Berry,  he  assumed  a  very  different  air. 
Afterwards,  there  was  a  supper  for  the  Due  de  Berry 
in  the  apartments  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne;  but 
the  conjugal  impatience  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  cut 
it  rather  too  short. 

I  expressed  to  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  with  my  ac- 
customed freedom,  that  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  seemed 
to  me  very  gay  on  returning  from  so  sad  a  campaign. 
He  could  not  deny  this,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  give 
a  hint  on  the  subject.  Everybody  indeed  blamed  so 
misplaced  a  gaiety.  Two  or  three  days  after  his  ar- 
rival the  Due  de  Bourgogne  passed  three  hours  with 
the  King  in  the  apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
I  was  afraid  that  his  piety  would  withhold  him  from 
letting  out  on  the  subject  of  M.  de  Vendome,  but  I 


Saint-Simon  201 

heard  that  he  spoke  on  that  subject  without  restraint, 
impelled  by  the  advice  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne, 
and  also  by  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  who  set  his  con- 
science at  ease.  His  account  of  the  campaign,  of  af- 
fairs, of  things,  of  advices,  of  proceedings,  was  com- 
plete. Another,  perhaps,  less  virtuous,  might  have 
used  weightier  terms;  but  at  any  rate  everything  was 
said  with  a  completeness  beyond  all  hope,  if  we  con- 
sider who  spoke  and  who  listened.  The  Duke  conclud- 
ed with  an  eager  prayer  to  be  given  an  army  in  the  next 
campaign,  and  with  the  promise  of  the  King  to  that 
effect.  Soon  after  an  explanation  took  place  with  Mon- 
seigneur  at  Meudon,  Mademoiselle  Choin  being  pres- 
ent. \Yith  the  latter  he  spoke  much  more  in  private: 
she  had  taken  his  part  with  Monseigneur.  The  Du- 
chesse de  Bourgogne  had  gained  her  over.  The  con- 
nection of  this  girl  with  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  be- 
ginning to  grow  very  close  indeed. 

(jamaches  had  been  to  the  army  with  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  and  being  a  free-tongued  man  had  often 
spoken  out  very  sharply  on  the  puerilities  in  which  he 
indulged  in  company  with  the  Due  de  Berry,  influenced 
by  his  example.  One  day  returning  from  mass,  in  com- 
pany with  the  Duke  on  a  critical  day,  when  he  would 
rather  have  seen  him  on  horseback,  he  said  aloud, 
"  You  will  certainly  win  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  but 
as  for  the  kingdom  of  the  earth,  Prince  Eugene  and 
Marlborough  know  how  to  seek  it  better  than  you." 
\Yhat  he  said  quite  as  publicly  to  the  two  Princes  on 
their  treatment  of  the  King  of  England,  was  admirable. 
That  Prince  (known  as  the  Chevalier  de  Saint  George) 
served  incognito,  with  a  modesty  that  the  Princes  took 


2O2  Memoirs  of 

advantage  of  to  treat  him  with  the  greatest  indifference 
and  contempt.  Towards  the  end  of  the  campaign,  Ga- 
maches,  exasperated  with  their  conduct,  exclaimed  to 
them  in  the  presence  of  everybody:  "  Is  this  a  wager? 
speak  frankly;  if  so,  you  have  won,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  that;  but  now,  speak  a  little  to  the  Chevalier 
de  Saint  George,  and  treat  him  more  politely."  These 
sallies,  however,  were  too  public  to  produce  any  good 
effect.  They  were  suffered,  but  not  attended  to. 

The  citadel  of  Lille  capitulated  as  we  have  seen,  with 
the  consent  of  the  King,  who  was  obliged  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  Marechal  de  Boufllers  had  done  all  he 
could,  and  that  further  defence  was  impossible.  Prince 
Eugene  treated  Boufflers  with  the  greatest  possible  con- 
sideration. The  enemy  at  this  time  made  no  secret  of 
their  intention  to  invest  Ghent,  which  made  the  dis- 
persal of  our  army  the  more  shameful;  but  necessity 
commanded,  for  no  more  provisions  were  to  be  got. 

M.  de  Yendome  arrived  at  Versailles  on  the  morning 
of  December  15th,  and  saluted  the  King  as  he  left  table. 
The  King  embraced  him  with  a  sort  of  enthusiasm  that 
made  his  cabal  triumph.  He  monopolised  all  conver- 
sation during  the  dinner,  but  only  trifles  were  talked  of. 
The  King  said  he  would  talk  to  him  next  day  at  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon's.  This  delay,  which  was  new  to 
him,  did  not  seem  of  good  augury.  He  went  to  pay 
his  respects  to  M.  de  Bourgogne,  who  received  him 
well  in  spite  of  all  that  had  passed.  Then  Vendome 
went  to  wait  on  Alonseigneur  at  the  Princesse  de 
Conti's:  here  he  thought  himself  in  his  stronghold.  He 
was  received  excellently,  and  the  conversation  turned 
on  nothings.  He  wished  to  take  advantage  of  this,  and 


Saint-Simon  203 

proposed  a  visit  to  Anet.  His  surprise  and  that  of  those 
present  were  great  at  the  uncertain  reply  of  Mon- 
seigneur,  who  caused  it  to  be  understood,  and  rather 
stiffly  too,  that  he  would  not  go.  Vendome  appeared 
embarrassed,  and  abridged  his  visit.  I  met  him  at  the 
end  of  the  gallery  of  the  new  wing,  as  I  was  coming 
from  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  turning  towards  the  steps  in 
the  middle  of  the  gallery.  He  was  alone,  without 
torches  or  valets,  with  Alberoni,  followed  by  a  man  I 
did  not  know.  I  saw  him  by  the  light  of  my  torches; 
we  saluted  each  other  politely,  though  we  had  not  much 
acquaintance  one  with  the  other.  He  seemed  cha- 
grined, and  was  going  to  M.  du  Maine,  his  counsel  and 
principal  support. 

Next  day  he  passed  an  hour  with  the  King  at  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon's.  He  remained  eight  or  ten  days 
at  Versailles  or  at  Meudon,  and  never  went  to  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Bourgogne's.  This  was  nothing  new  for  him. 
The  mixture  of  grandeur  and  irregularity  which  he  had 
long  affected  seemed  to  him  to  have  freed  him  from 
the  most  indispensable  duties.  His  Abbe  Alberoni 
showed  himself  at  the  King's  mass  in  the  character  of 
a  courtier  with  unparalleled  effrontery.  At  last  they 
went  to  Anet.  Even  before  he  went  he  perceived  some 
diminution  in  his  position,  since  he  lowered  himself  so 
far  as  to  invite  people  to  come  and  see  him, — he,  who 
in  former  years  made  it  a  favour  to  receive  the  most 
distinguished  persons.  He  soon  perceived  the  falling- 
off  in  the  number  of  his  visitors.  Some  excused  them- 
selves from  going;  others  promised  to  go  and  did  not. 
Every  one  made  a  difficulty  about  a  journey  of  fifteen 
leagues,  which,  the  year  before,  was  considered  as  easy 


2O4  Memoirs  of 

and  as  necessary  as  that  of  Marly.  Vendome  remained 
at  Anet  until  the  first  voyage  to  Marly,  when  he  came; 
and  he  always  came  to  Marly  and  Meuclon,  never  to 
Versailles,  until  the  change  of  which  I  shall  soon  have 
occasion  to  speak. 

The  Marechal  cle  Boufflers  returned  to  Court  from 
his  firm  but  unsuccessful  defence  of  Lille,  and  was  re- 
ceived in  a  triumphant  manner,  and  overwhelmed  with 
honours  and  rewards.  This  contrast  with  Vendome 
was  remarkable:  the  one  raised  by  force  of  trickery, 
heaping  up  mountains  like  the  giants,  leaning  on  vice, 
lies,  audacity,  on  a  cabal  inimical  to  the  state  and  its 
heirs,*  a  factitious  hero,  made  such  by  will  in  despite 
of  truth; — the  other,  without  cabal,  with  no  support 
but  virtue  and  modesty,  was  inundated  with  favours, 
and  the  applause  of  enemies  was  followed  by  the  ac- 
clamations of  the  public,  so  that  the  nature  of  even 
courtiers  changed,  and  they  were  happy  in  the  recom- 
penses showered  upon  him ! 

Some  days  after  the  return  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
Cheverny  had  an  interview  with  him,  on  leaving  which 
he  told  me  what  I  cannot  refrain  from  relating  here, 
though  it  is  necessarily  with  confusion  that  I  write  it. 
He  said  that,  speaking  freely  with  him  on  what  had  been 
circulated  during  the  campaign,  the  Prince  observed 
that  he  knew  how  and  with  what  vivacity  I  had  ex- 
pressed myself,  and  that  he  was  informed  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  Prince  de  Conti  had  given  his  opinion, 
and  added  that  with  the  approval  of  two  such  men, 
that  of  others  might  be  dispensed  with.  Cheverny,  a 

'Observe  the  curious  identification  of  the  State  and  the  King:— 
VEtal  ct  scs  hcriticrs.  This  illustrates  the  probably  apocryphal  saying — 
"  L'Etat  c'cst  Mo\," 


Saint-Simon  205 

very  truthful  man,  came  full  of  this  to  tell  it  to  me  at 
once.  I  was  filled  with  confusion  at  being  placed  be- 
side a  man  as  superior  to  me  in  knowledge  of  war  as 
he  was  in  rank  and  birth;  but  I  felt  with  gratitude  how 
well  M.  de  Beauvilliers  had  kept  his  word  and  spoken 
in  my  favour. 

The  last  evening  of  this  year  (1708)  w<as  very  remark- 
able, because  there  had  not  yet  been  an  example  of 
any  such  thing.  The  King  having  retired  after  supper 
to  his  cabinet  with  his  family,  as  usual,  Chamillart  came 
without  being  sent  for.  He  whispered  in  the  King's 
ear  that  he  had  a  long  despatch  from  the  Marechal  de 
Boufflers.  Immediately  the  King  said  good-night  to 
Monseigneur  and  the  Princesses,  who  went  out  with 
every  one  else;  and  the  King  actually  worked  for  an 
hour  with  his  minister  before  going  to  bed,  so  excited 
was  he  by  the  great  project  for  retaking  Lille! 

Since  the  fall  of  Lille,  in  fact,  Chamillart,  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  the  place  being  in  our  posses- 
sion, had  laid  out  a  plan  by  which  we  were  to  lay  siege 
to  it  and  recapture  it.  One  part  of  his  plan  was,  that 
the  King  should  conduct  the  siege  in  person.  Another 
was,  that,  as  money  was  so  difficult  to  obtain,  the  ladies 
of  the  Court  should  not  accompany  the  King,  as  their 
presence  caused  a  large  increase  of  expense  for  car- 
riages, servants,  and  so  on.  He  confided  his  project 
to  the  King,  under  a  strict  promise  that  it  should  be 
kept  secret  from  Madame  de  Maintenon.  He  feared, 
and  with  reason,  that  if  she  heard  of  it  she  would  ob- 
ject to  being  separated  from  the  King  for  such  a  long 
time  as  would  be  necessary  for  the  siege.  Chamillart 
was  warned  that  if  he  acted  thus,  hiding  his  plan  from 


206  Memoirs  of 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  whom  he  owed  everything, 
she  would  assuredly  ruin  him,  but  he  paid  no  attention 
to  the  warning.  He  felt  all  the  danger  he  ran,  but 
he  \vas  courageous;  he  loved  the  State,  and,  if  I  may 
say  so,  he  loved  the  King  as  a  mistress.  He  followed 
his  own  counsels  then,  and  made  the  King  acquainted 
with  his  project. 

The  King  was  at  once  delighted  with  it.  He  entered 
into  the  details  submitted  to  him  by  Chamillart  with 
the  liveliest  interest,  and  promised  to  carry  out  all  that 
was  proposed.  He  sent  for  Boufflers,  who  had  returned 
from  Lille,  and  having,  as  I  have  said,  recompensed 
him  for  his  brave  defence  of  that  place  with  a  peerage 
and  other  marks  of  favour,  despatched  him  privately 
into  Flanders  to  make  preparations  for  the  siege.  The 
abandonment  of  Ghent  by  our  troops,  after  a  short  and 
miserable  defence,  made  him  more  than  ever  anxious 
to  carry  out  this  scheme. 

But  the  King  had  been  so  unused  to  keep  a  secret 
from  Madame  de  Maintenon,  that  he  felt  himself  con- 
strained in  attempting  to  do  so  now.  He  confided  to 
her,  therefore,  the  admirable  plan  of  Chamillart.  She 
had  the  address  to  hide  her  surprise,  and  the  strength 
to  dissimulate  perfectly  her  vexation;  she  praised  the 
project;  she  appeared  charmed  with  it;  she  entered  into 
the  details;  she  spoke  of  them  to  Chamillart;  admired 
his  zeal,  his  labour,  his  diligence,  and,  above  all,  his 
ability,  in  having  conceived  and  rendered  possible  so 
fine  and  grand  a  project. 

From  that  moment,  however,  she  forgot  nothing  in 
order  to  ensure  its  failure.  The  first  sight  of  it  had 
made  her  tremble.  To  be  separated  from  the  King  dur- 


Saint-Simon  207 

ing  a  long  siege;  to  abandon  him  to  a  minister  to  whom 
he  would  be  grateful  for  all  the  success  of  that  siege; 
a  minister,  too,  who,  although  her  creature,  had  dared 
to  submit  this  project  to  the  King  without  informing 
her;  who,  moreover,  had  recently  offended  her  by 
marrying  his  son  into  a  family  she  considered  inimical 
to  her,  and  by  supporting  M.  de  Vendome  against  ^Ion- 
seigneur  de  Bourgogne!  These  were  considerations 
that  determined  her  to  bring  about  the  failure  of  Cha- 
millart's  project  and  the  disgrace  of  Chamillart  himself. 
She  employed  her  art  so  well,  that  after  a  time  the 
project  upon  Lille  did  not  appear  so  easy  to  the  King 
as  at  first.  Soon  after,  it  seemed  difficult;  then  too 
hazardous  and  ruinous;  so  that  at  last  it  was  abandoned, 
and  Boufrlers  had  orders  to  cease  his  preparations  and 
return  to  France!  She  succeeded  thus  in  an  affair  she 
considered  the  most  important  she  had  undertaken  dur- 
ing all  her  life.  Chamillart  was  much  touched,  but  lit- 
tle surprised.  As  soon  as  he  knew  his  secret  had  been 
confided  to  Madame  de  Maintenon  he  had  feeble  hope 
for  it.  Now  he  began  to  fear  for  himself. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Tremendous  Cold  in  France — Winters  of  1708-1709 — Finan- 
ciers and  the  Famine — Interference  of  the  Parliaments  of 
Paris  and  Dijon — Dreadful  Oppression — Misery  of  the  Peo- 
ple —  New  Taxes  —  Forced  Labour  —  General  Ruin  —  In- 
creased Misfortunes — Threatened  Regicide — Procession  of 
Saint  Genevieve — Offerings  of  Plate  to  the  King — Discontent 
of  the  People — A  Bread  Riot,  How  Appeased. 

ONE  of  the  reasons  Madame  de  Maintenon  had 
brought  forward,  which  much  assisted  her  in 
opposing  the  siege  of  Lille,  was  the  excessive  cold  of 
this  winter.  The  winter  was,  in  fact,  terrible ;  the 
memory  of  man  could  find  no  parallel  to  it.  The 
frost  came  suddenly  on  Twelfth  Xight,  and  lasted 
nearly  two  months,  beyond  all  recollection.  In  four 
days  the  Seine  and  all  the  other  rivers  were  frozen, 
and,  what  had  never  been  seen  before,  the  sea  froze 
all  along  the  coasts,  so  as  to  bear  carts,  even  heavily 
laden,  upon  it.  Curious  observers  pretended  that  this 
cold  surpassed  what  had  ever  been  felt  in  Sweden  and 
Denmark.  The  tribunals  were  closed  a  considerable 
time.  The  worst  thing  was,  that  it  completely  thawed 
for  seven  or  eight  days,  and  then  froze  again  as  rudely 
as  before.  This  caused  the  complete  destruction  of  all 
kinds  of  vegetation — even  fruit-trees,  and  others  of 

208 


Saint-Simon  209 

the  most  hardy  kind,  were  destroyed.  The  violence 
of  the  cold  was  such,  that  the  strongest  elixirs  and  the 
most  spirituous  liquors  broke  their  bottles  in  cup- 
boards of  rooms  with  fires  in  them,  and  surrounded 
by  chimneys,  in  several  parts  of  the  chateau  of  Ver- 
sailles. As  I  myself  was  one  evening  supping  with  the 
Due  de  Yilleroy,  in  his  little  bed-room,  I  saw  bottles 
that  had  come  from  a  well-heated  kitchen,  and  that  had 
been  put  on  the  chimney-piece  of  this  bed-room  (which 
was  close  to  the  kitchen),  so  frozen,  that  pieces  of  ice 
fell  into  our  glasses  as  we  poured  out  from  them.  The 
second  frost  ruined  everything.  There  were  no  wal- 
nut-trees, no  olive-trees,  no  apple-trees,  no  vines  left, — 
none  worth  speaking  of,  at  least.  The  other  trees  died 
in  great  numbers  ;  the  gardens  perished,  and  all  the 
grain  in  the  earth.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  the 
desolation  of  this  general  ruin.  Everybody  held  tight 
his  old  grain.  The  price  of  bread  increased  in  propor- 
tion to  the  despair  for  the  next  harvest.  The  most 
knowing  re-sowed  barley  where  there  had  been  wheat, 
and  were  imitated  by  the  majority.  They  were  the 
most  successful,  and  saved  all ;  but  the  police  bethought 
themselves  of  prohibiting  this,  and  repented  too  late ! 
Divers  edicts  were  published  respecting  grain,  re- 
searches were  made  and  granaries  filled ;  commis- 
sioners were  appointed  to  scour  the  provinces,  and 
all  these  steps  contributed  to  increase  the  general 
dearness  and  poverty,  and  that,  too,  at  a  time  when, 
as  was  afterwards  proved,  there  was  enough  corn  in  the 
country  to  feed  all  France  for  two  years,  without  a 
fresh  ear  being  reaped. 

Many  people  believed  that  the  finance  gentlemen 
VOL.  II.— 14 


2io  Memoirs  of 

had  clutched  at  this  occasion  to  seize  upon  all  the  corn 
in  the  kingdom,  by  emissaries  they  sent  about,  in  order 
to  sell  it  at  whatever  price  they  wished  for  the  profit 
of  the  King,  not  forgetting  their  own.  The  fact  that  a 
large  quantity  of  corn  that  the  King  had  bought,  and 
that  had  spoiled  upon  the  Loire,  was  thrown  into  the 
water  in  consequence,  did  not  shake  this  opinion,  as 
the  accident  could  not  be  hidden.  It  is  certain  that 
the  price  of  corn  was  equal  in  all  the  markets  of  the 
realm  ;  that  at  Paris,  commissioners  fixed  the  price  by 
force,  and  often  obliged  the  vendors  to  raise  it  in 
spite  of  themselves  ;  that  when  people  cried  out,  "  How 
long  will  this  scarcity  last?"  some  commissioners  in 
a  market,  close  to  my  house,  near  Saint  Germain-des- 
Pres,  replied  openly,  "  As  long  as  you  please,"  moved 
by  compassion  and  indignation,  meaning  thereby,  as 
long  as  the  people  chose  to  submit  to  the  regulation, 
according  to  which  no  corn  entered  Paris,  except  on 
an  order  of  D'Argenson.  D'Argenson  was  the  lieu- 
tenant of  police.  The  bakers  were  treated  with  the 
utmost  rigour  in  order  to  keep  up  the  price  of  bread 
all  over  France.  In  the  provinces,  officers  called  in- 
tendants  did  what  D'Argenson  did  at  Paris.  On  all 
the  markets,  the  corn  that  was  not  sold  at  the  hour 
fixed  for  closing  was  forcibly  carried  off ;  those  who, 
from  pity,  sold  their  corn  lower  than  the  fixed  rate 
were  punished  with  cruelty ! 

Alarechal,  the  King's  surgeon,  had  the  courage  and 
the  probity  to  tell  all  these  things  to  the  King,  and  to 
state  the  sinister  opinions  it  gave  rise  to  among  all 
classes,  even  the  most  enlightened.  The  King  ap- 
peared touched,  was  not  offended  with  Marechal,  but 
did  nothing. 


Saint-Simon  211 

In  several  places  large  stores  of  corn  were  collected 
by  the  government  authorities,  but  with  the  greatest 
possible  secrecy.  Private  people  were  expressly  for- 
bidden to  do  this,  and  informers  were  encouraged  to 
betray  them.  A  poor  fellow,  having  bethought  him- 
self of  informing  against  one  of  the  stores  alluded  to 
above,  was  severely  punished  for  his  pains.  The  Par- 
liament assembled  to  debate  upon  these  disorders.  It 
came  to  the  resolution  of  submitting  various  proposals 
to  the  King,  which  it  deemed  likely  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  country,  and  offered  to  send  its  Conseillers 
to  examine  into  the  conduct  of  the  monopolists.  As 
soon  as  the  King  heard  of  this,  he  flew  into  a  strange 
passion,  and  his  first  intention  was  to  send  a  harsh 
message  to  the  Parliament  to  attend  to  law  trials,  and 
not  to  mix  with  matters  that  did  not  concern  it.  The 
chancellor  did  not  dare  to  represent  to  the  King  that 
what  the  Parliament  wished  to  do  belonged  to  its  prov- 
ince, but  calmed  him  by  representing  the  respect  and 
affection  with  which  the  Parliament  regarded  him,  and 
that  he  was  master  either  to  accept  or  refuse  its  offers. 
Xo  reprimand  was  given,  therefore,  to  the  Parliament, 
but  it  was  informed  that  the  King  prohibited  it  from 
meddling  with  the  corn  question.  However  accus- 
tomed the  Parliament,  as  well  as  all  the  other  public 
bodies,  might  be  to  humiliations,  it  was  exceedingly 
vexed  by  this  treatment,  and  obeyed  with  the  greatest 
grief.  The  public  was,  nevertheless,  much  affected  by 
the  conduct  of  the  Parliament,  and  felt  that  if  the 
Finance  Ministry  had  been  innocent  in  the  matter,  the 
King  would  have  been  pleased  with  what  had  taken 
place,  which  was  in  no  respect  an  attack  on  the  abso- 


212  Memoirs  of 

lute  and  unbounded  authority  of  which  he  was  so  vilely 
jealous. 

In  the  country  a  somewhat  similar  incident  occurred. 
The  Parliament  of  Burgundy,  seeing  the  province  in 
the  direst  necessity,  wrote  to  the  Intendant,  who  did 
not  bestir  himself  the  least  in  the  world.  In  this  press- 
ing danger  of  a  murderous  famine,  the  members  as- 
sembled to  debate  upon  the  course  to  adopt.  Nothing 
was  said  or  done  more  than  was  necessary,  and  all  with 
infinite  discretion,  yet  the  King  was  no  sooner  in- 
formed of  it  than  he  grew  extremely  irritated.  He 
sent  a  severe  reprimand  to  this  Parliament ;  prohibited 
it  from  meddling  again  in  the  matter ;  and  ordered  the 
President,  who  had  conducted  the  assembly,  to  come 
at  once  to  Court  to  explain  his  conduct.  He  came, 
and  but  for  the  intervention  of  M.  le  Due  would  have 
been  deprived  of  his  post,  irreproachable  as  his  con- 
duct had  been.  He  received  a  sharp  scolding  from  the 
King,  and  was  then  allowed  to  depart.  At  the  end 
of  a  few  weeks  he  returned  to  Dijon,  where  it  had  been 
resolved  to  receive  him  in  triumph  ;  but,  like  a  wise  and 
experienced  man,  he  shunned  these  attentions,  ar- 
ranging so  that  he  arrived  at  Dijon  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  The  other  Parliaments,  with  these  ex- 
amples before  them,  were  afraid  to  act,  and  allowed 
the  Intendants  and  their  emissaries  to  have  it  all  their 
own  way.  It  was  at  this  time  that  those  commission- 
ers were  appointed,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded, 
who  acted  under  the  authority  of  the  Intendants,  and 
without  dependence  of  any  kind  upon  the  Parliaments. 
True,  a  court  of  appeal  against  their  decisions  was 
established,  but  it  was  a  mere  mockery.  The  mem- 


Saint-Simon  213 

bers  who  composed  it  did  not  set  out  to  fulfil  their 
duties  until  three  months  after  having  been  appointed. 
Then,  matters  had  been  so  arranged  that  they  received 
no  appeals,  and  found  no  cases  to  judge.  All  this  dark 
work  remained,  therefore,  in  the  hands  of  D'Argenson 
and  the  Intendants,  and  it  continued  to  be  done  with 
the  same  harshness  as  ever. 

Without  passing  a  more  definite  judgment  on  those 
who  invented  and  profited  by  this  scheme,  it  may  be 
said  that  there  has  scarcely  been  a  century  which  has 
produced  one  more  mysterious,  more  daring,  better 
arranged,  and  resulting  in  an  oppression  so  enduring, 
so  sure,  so  cruel.  The  sums  it  produced  were  innu- 
merable ;  and  innumerable  were  the  people  who  died 
literally  of  hunger,  and  those  who  perished  afterwards 
of  the  maladies  caused  by  the  extremity  of  misery  ;  in- 
numerable also  were  the  families  who  were  ruined, 
whose  ruin  brought  down  a  torrent  of  other  ills. 

Despite  all  this,  payments  hitherto  most  strictly 
made  began  to  cense.  Those  of  the  customs,  those 
of  the  divers  loans,  the  dividends  upon  the  Hotel  de 
\  ille — in  all  times  so  sacred — all  were  suspended  ;  these 
last  alone  continued,  but  with  delays,  then  with  re- 
trenchments, which  desolated  nearly  all  the  families  of 
Paris  and  many  others.  At  the  same  time  the  taxes — 
increased,  multiplied,  and  exacted  with  the  most  ex- 
treme rigour — completed  the  devastation  of  France. 
Everything  rose  incredibly  in  price,  while  nothing  was 
left  to  buy  with,  even  at  the  cheapest  rate  ;  and  although 
the  majority  of  the  cattle  had  perished  for  want  of  food, 
and  by  the  misery  of  those  who  kept  them,  a  new  mo- 
nopoly was  established  upon  horned  beasts.  A  great 


214  Memoirs  of 

number  of  people  who,  in  preceding  years,  used  to  re- 
lieve the  poor,  found  themselves  so  reduced  as  to  be 
able  to  subsist  only  with  great  difficulty,  and  many  of 
them  received  alms  in  secret.  It  is  impossible  to  say 
how  many  others  laid  siege  to  the  hospitals,  until  then 
the  shame  and  punishment  of  the  poor ;  how  many 
ruined  hospitals  revomited  forth  their  inmates  to  the 
public  charge — that  is  to  say,  sent  them  away  to  die 
actually  of  hunger ;  and  how  many  decent  families  shut 
themselves  up  in  garrets  to  die  of  want. 

It  is  impossible  to  say,  moreover,  how  all  this  misery 
warmed  up  zeal  and  charity,  or  how  immense  were  the 
alms  distributed.  But  want  increasing  each  instant,  an 
indiscreet  and  tyrannical  charity  imagined  new  taxes 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor.  They  were  imposed,  and, 
added  to  so  many  others,  vexed  numbers  of  people, 
who  were  annoyed  at  being  compelled  to  pay,  who 
would  have  preferred  giving  voluntarily.  Thus,  these 
new  taxes,  instead  of  helping  the  poor,  really  took 
away  assistance  from  them,  and  left  them  worse  off 
than  before.  The  strangest  thing  of  all  is,  that  these 
taxes  in  favour  of  the  poor  were  perpetuated  and  ap- 
propriated by  the  King,  and  are  received  by  the  finan- 
ciers on  his  account  to  this  day  as  a  branch  of  the 
revenue,  the  name  of  them  not  having  even  been 
changed.  The  same  thing  has  happened  with  respect 
to  the  annual  tax  for  keeping  up  the  highways  and 
thoroughfares  of  the  kingdom.  The  majority  of  the 
bridges  were  broken,  and  the  high  roads  had  become 
impracticable.  Trade,  which  suffered  by  this,  awak- 
ened attention.  The  Intendant  of  Champagne  de- 
termined to  mend  the  roads  by  parties  of  men,  whom 


Saint-Simon  215 

he  compelled  to  work  for  nothing,  not  even  giving 
them  bread.  He  was  imitated  everywhere,  and  was 
made  Counsellor  of  State.  The  people  died  of  hunger 
and  misery  at  this  work,  while  those  who  overlooked 
them  made  fortunes.  In  the  end  the  thing  was  found 
to  be  impracticable,  and  was  abandoned,  and  so  were 
the  roads.  But  the  impost  for  making  them  and  keep- 
ing them  up  did  not  in  the  least  stop  during  this  experi- 
ment or  since,  nor  has  it  ceased  to  be  appropriated  as  a 
branch  of  the  King's  revenue. 

But  to  return  to  the  year  1709.  People  never  ceased 
wondering  what  had  become  of  all  the  money  of  the 
realm.  Nobody  could  any  longer  pay,  because  no- 
body was  paid  :  the  country-people,  overwhelmed  with 
exactions  and  with  valueless  property,  had  become  in- 
solvent :  trade  no  longer  yielded  anything — good  faith 
and  confidence  were  at  an  end.  Thus  the  King  had  no 
resources,  except  in  terror  and  in  his  unlimited  power, 
which,  boundless  as  it  was,  failed  also  for  want  of  hav- 
ing something  to  take  and  to  exercise  itself  upon. 
There  was  no  more  circulation,  no  means  of  re-estab- 
lishing it.  All  was  perishing  step  by  step ;  the  realm 
was  entirely  exhausted ;  the  troops,  even,  were  not 
paid,  although  no  one  could  imagine  what  was  done 
with  the  millions  that  came  into  the  King's  coffers. 
The  unfed  soldiers,  disheartened  too  at  being  so  badly 
commanded,  were  always  unsuccessful ;  there  was  no 
capacity  in  generals  or  ministers  ;  no  appointment  ex- 
cept by  whim  or  intrigue  ;  nothing  was  punished,  noth- 
ing examined,  nothing  weighed:  there  was  equal 
impotence  to  sustain  the  war  and  bring  about  peace : 
all  suffered,  yet  none  dared  to  put  the  hand  to  this  arch, 
tottering  as  it  was  and  ready  to  fall. 


216  Memoirs  of 

This  was  the  frightful  state  to  which  we  were  re- 
duced, when  envoys  were  sent  into  Holland  to  try  and 
bring  about  peace.  The  picture  is  exact,  faithful,  and 
not  overcharged.  It  was  necessary  to  present  it  as 
it  was,  in  order  to  explain  the  extremity  to  which  we 
were  reduced,  the  enormity  of  the  concessions  which 
the  King  made  to  obtain  peace,  and  the  visible  miracle 
of  Him  who  sets  bounds  to  the  seas,  by  which  France 
was  allowed  to  escape  from  the  hands  of  Europe,  re- 
solved and  ready  to  destroy  her. 

Meanwhile  the  money  was  re-coined ;  and  its  in- 
crease to  a  third  more  than  its  intrinsic  value,  brought 
some  profit  to  the  King,  but  ruin  to  private  people, 
and  a  disorder  to  trade  which  completed  its  annihila- 
tion. 

Samuel  Bernard,  the  banker,  overthrew  all  Lyons 
by  his  prodigious  bankruptcy,  which  caused  the  most 
terrible  results.  Desmarets  assisted  him  as  much  as 
possible.  The  discredit  into  which  paper  money  had 
fallen,  was  the  cause  of  his  failure.  He  had  issued 
notes  to  the  amount  of  twenty  millions,  and  owed 
almost  as  much  at  Lyons.  Fourteen  millions  were 
given  to  him  in  assignations,  in  order  to  draw  him  out 
of  his  difficulties.  It  is  pretended  that  he  found  means 
to  gain  much  by  his  bankruptcy,  but  this  seems  doubt- 
ful. 

The  winter  at  length  passed  away.  In  the  spring 
so  many  disorders  took  place  in  the  market  of  Paris, 
that  more  guards  than  usual  were  kept  in  the  city.  At 
Saint  Rock  there  was  a  disturbance,  on  account  of  a 
poor  fellow  who  had  fallen,  and  been  trampled  under 
foot ;  and  the  crowd,  which  was  very  large,  was  very 


Saint-Simon  217 

insolent  to  D'Argenson,  Lieutenant  of  Police,  who  had 
hastened  there.  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  who  had 
retired  from  the  court  to  Chenil,  on  account  of  his  loss 
of  sight,  received  an  atrocious  letter  against  the  King, 
in  which  it  was  plainly  intimated  that  there  were  still 
Ravaillacs  left  in  the  world ;  and  to  this  madness  was 
added  an  eulogy  of  Brutus.*  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
at  once  went  in  all  haste  to  the  King  with  this  letter. 
His  sudden  appearance  showed  that  something  im- 
portant had  occurred,  and  the  object  of  his  visit,  of 
course,  soon  became  known.  He  was  very  ill  re- 
ceived for  coming  so  publicly  on  such  an  errand.  The 
Dues  de  Beauvilliers  and  de  Bouillon,  it  seems,  had 
received  similar  letters,  but  had  given  them  to  the 
King  privately.  The  King  for  some  days  was  much 
troubled,  but  after  due  reflection,  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  people  who  menace  and  warn  have  less 
intention  of  committing  a  crime  than  of  causing  alarm. 

What  annoyed  the  King  more  was,  the  inundation 
of  placards,  the  most  daring  and  the  most  unmeasured, 
against  his  person,  his  conduct,  and  his  government — • 
placards,  which  for  a  long  time  were  found  pasted 
upon  the  gates  of  Paris,  the  churches,  the  public  places, 
above  all  upon  the  statues  ;  which  during  the  night 
were  insulted  in  various  fashions,  the  marks  being  seen 
the  next  morning,  and  the  inscriptions  erased.  There 
were  also,  multitudes  of  verses  and  songs,  in  which 
nothing  was  spared. 

We  were  in  this  state  until  the  i6th  of  Mav.     The 


*  The  mind  recoils  with  horror  from  the  wretch  to  whom  such  an  idea 
could  have  presented  itself  amidst  the  blessings  which  the  absolute 
authority  of  Louis  XIV.  was  showering  upon  the  country. 


2i8  Memoirs  of 

procession  of  Saint  Genevieve  took  place.  This  pro- 
cession never  takes  place  except  in  times  of  the  direst 
necessity ;  and  then,  only  in  virtue  of  orders  from  the 
King,  the  Parliament,  or  the  Archbishop  of  Paris.  On 
the  one  hand,  it  was  hoped  that  it  would  bring  succour 
to  the  country ;  on  the  other,  that  it  would  amuse  the 
people. 

It  was  shortly  after  this,  when  the  news  of  the  arro- 
gant demands  of  the  allies,  and  the  vain  attempts  of  the 
King  to  obtain  an  honourable  peace  became  known, 
that  the  Duchesse  de  Grammont  conceived  the  idea 
of  offering  her  plate  to  the  King,  to  replenish  his  im- 
poverished exchequer,  and  to  afford  him  means  to 
carry  on  the  war.  She  hoped  that  her  example  would 
be  followed  by  all  the  Court,  and  that  she  alone  would 
have  the  merit  and  the  profit  of  suggesting  the  idea. 
Unfortunately  for  this  hope,  the  Duke,  her  husband, 
spoke  of  the  project  to  Marechal  Bouffkrs,  who 
thought  it  so  good,  that  he  noised  it  abroad,  and  made 
such  a  stir,  exhorting  everybody  to  adopt  it,  that  he 
passed  for  the  inventor,  and  no  mention  was  made  of 
the  Duke  or  the  old  Duchesse  de  Grammont,  the  latter 
of  whom  was  much  enraged  at  this. 

The  project  made  a  great  hubbub  at  the  Court.  No- 
body dared  to  refuse  to  offer  his  plate,  yet  each  offered 
it  with  much  regret.  Some  had  been  keeping  it  as  a 
last  resource,  which  they  were  very  sorry  to  deprive 
themselves  of;  others  feared  the  dirtiness  of  copper 
and  earthenware ;  others  again  were  annoyed  at  being1 
obliged  to  imitate  an  ungrateful  fashion,  all  the  merit 
of  which  would  go  to  the  inventor.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Pontchartrain  objected  to  the  project,  as  one  from 


Saint-Simon  219 

which  only  trifling  benefit  could  be  derived,  and  which 
would  do  great  injury  to  France  by  acting  as  a  procla- 
mation of  its  embarrassed  state  to  all  the  world,  at  home 
and  abroad.  The  King  would  not  listen  to  his  reason- 
ings, but  declared  himself  willing  to  receive  all  the 
plate  that  was  sent  to  him  as  a  free-will  offering.  He 
announced  this ;  and  two  means  were  indicated  at  the 
same  time,  which  all  good  citizens  might  follow.  One 
was,  to  send  their  plate  to  the  King's  goldsmith ;  the 
other,  to  send  it  to  the  Mint.  Those  who  made  an 
unconditional  gift  of  their  plate,  sent  it  to  the  former, 
who  kept  a  register  of  the  names  and  of  the  number 
of  marks  he  received.  The  King  regularly  looked 
over  this  list,  at  least  at  first,  and  promised  in  general 
terms  to  restore  to  everybody  the  weight  of  metal  they 
gave  when  his  affairs  permitted — a  promise  nobody  be- 
lieved in  or  hoped  to  see  executed.  Those  who  wished 
to  be  paid  for  their  plate  sent  it  to  the  Mint.  It  was 
weighed  on  arrival ;  the  names  were  written,  the  marks 
and  the  date ;  payment  was  made  according  as  money 
could  be  found.  Many  people  were  not  sorry  thus  to 
sell  their  plate  without  shame.  But  the  loss  and  the 
damage  were  inestimable  in  admirable  ornaments  of 
all  kinds,  with  which  much  of  the  plate  of  the  rich  was 
embellished.  When  an  account  came  to  be  drawn  up, 
it  was  found  that  not  a  hundred  people  were  upon  the 
list  of  Launay,  the  goldsmith ;  and  the  total  product  of 
the  gift  did  not  amount  to  three  millions.  I  confess 
that  I  was  very  late  in  sending  my  plate.  When  I 
found  that  I  was  almost  the  only  one  of  my  rank  using 
silver,  I  sent  plate  to  the  value  of  a  thousand  pistoles 
to  the  Mint,  and  locked  up  the  rest.  All  the  great 


22O  Memoirs  of 

people  turned  to  earthenware,  exhausted  the  shops 
where  it  was  sold,  and  set  the  trade  in  it  on  fire,  while 
common  folks  continued  to  use  their  silver.  Even  the 
King  thought  of  using  earthenware,  having  sent  his 
gold  vessels  to  the  Mint,  but  afterwards  decided  upon 
plated  metal  and  silver ;  the  Princes  and  Princesses  of 
the  blood  used  crockery. 

Ere  three  months  were  over  his  head  the  King  felt 
all  the  shame  and  the  weakness  of  having  consented 
to  this  surrendering  of  plate,  and  avowed  that  he  re- 
pented of  it.  The  inundations  of  the  Loire,  which 
happened  at  the  same  time.,  and  caused  the  utmost 
disorder,  did  not  restore  the  Court  or  the  public  to 
good  humour.  The  losses  they  caused,  and  the  dam- 
age they  did,  were  very  considerable,  and  ruined  many 
private  people,  and  desolated  home  trade. 

Summer  came.  The  dearness  of  all  things,  and  of 
bread  in  particular,  continued  to  cause  frequent  com- 
motions all  over  the  realm.  Although,  as  I  have  said, 
the  guards  of  Paris  were  much  increased,  above  all  in 
the  markets  and  the  suspected  places,  they  were  un- 
able to  hinder  disturbances  from  breaking  out.  In 
many  of  these  D'Argenson  nearly  lost  his  life. 

Monseigneur  arriving  and  returning  from  the  Opera, 
was  assailed  by  the  populace  and  by  women  in  great 
numbers  crying,  "  Bread !  Bread !  "  so  that  he  was 
afraid,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  guards,  who  did  not 
dare  to  disperse  the  crowd  for  fear  of  worse  happen- 
ing. He  got  away  by  throwing  money  to  the  people, 
and  promising  wonders ;  but  as  the  wonders  did  not 
follow,  he  no  longer  dared  to  go  to  Paris. 

The    King   himself   from    his   windows   heard   the 


Saint-Simon  221 

people  of  Versailles  crying  aloud  in  the  street.  The 
discourses  they  held  were  daring  and  continual  in  the 
streets  and  public  places ;  they  uttered  complaints, 
sharp,  and  but  little  measured,  against  the  govern- 
ment, and  even  against  the  King's  person ;  and  even 
exhorted  each  other  no  longer  to  be  so  enduring, 
saying  that  nothing  worse  could  happen  to  them  than 
what  they  suffered,  dying  as  they  were  of  starvation. 

To  amuse  the  people,  the  idle  and  the  poor  were 
employed  to  level  a  rather  large  hillock  which  re- 
mained upon  the  Boulevard,  between  the  Fortes  Saint 
Denis  and  Saint  Martin ;  and  for  all  salary,  bad  bread 
in  small  quantities  was  distributed  to  these  workers.  It 
happened  that  on  Tuesday  morning,  the  2Oth  of  Au- 
gust, there  was  no  bread  for  a  large  number  of  these 
people.  A  woman  amongst  others  cried  out  at  this, 
which  excited  the  rest  to  do  likewise.  The  archers 
appointed  to  watch  over  these  labourers,  threatened 
the  woman ;  she  only  cried  the  louder ;  thereupon  the 
archers  seized  her  and  indiscreetly  put  her  in  an  ad- 
joining pillory.  In  a  moment  all  her  companions  ran 
to  her  aid,  pulled  down  the  pillory,  and  scoured  the 
streets,  pillaging  the  bakers  and  pastrycooks.  One 
by  one  the  shops  closed.  The  disorder  increased  and 
spread  through  the  neighbouring  streets ;  no  harm 
was  done  anybody,  but  the  cry  was  "  Bread !  Bread !  " 
and  bread  was  seized  everywhere. 

It  so  fell  out  that  Marechal  Boufflers,  who  little 
thought  what  was  happening,  was  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, calling  upon  his  notary.  Surprised  at  the  fright 
he  saw  everywhere,  and  learning  the  cause,  he  wished 
of  himself  to  appease  it.  Accompanied  by  the  Due  de 


222  Memoirs  of 

Grammont,  he  directed  himself  towards  the  scene  of 
the  disturbance,  although  advised  not  to  do  so.  When 
he  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  Rue  Saint  Denis,  the  crowd 
and  the  tumult  made  him  judge  that  it  would  be  best 
to  alight  from  his  coach.  He  advanced,  therefore,  on 
foot  with  the  Due  de  Grammont  among  the  furious  and 
infinite  crowd  of  people,  of  whom  he  asked  the  cause 
of  this  uproar,  promised  them  bread,  spoke  his  best 
with  gentleness  but  firmness,  and  remonstrated  with 
them.  He  was  listened  to.  Cries,  several  times  re- 
peated, of  "  Vive  M.  le  Marechal  de  Boufflers,"  burst 
from  the  crowd.  M.  de  Boufflers  walked  thus  with 
M.  de  Grammont  all  along  the  Rue  aux  Ours  and  the 
neighbouring  streets, — into  the  very  centre  of  the  sedi- 
tion, in  fact.  The  people  begged  him  to  represent 
their  misery  to  the  King,  and  to  obtain  for  them  some 
food.  He  promised  this,  and  upon  his  word  being 
given  all  were  appeased  and  all  dispersed  with  thanks 
and  fresh  acclamations  of  "  Vive  M.  le  Marechal  de 
Boufflers !  "  He  did  a  real  service  that  day.  D'Ar- 
genson  had  marched  to  the  spot  with  troops ;  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  Marechal,  blood  would  have  been 
spilt,  and  things  might  have  gone  very  far. 

The  Marechal  had  scarcely  reached  his  own  house 
in  the  Place  Royale  than  he  was  informed  that  the 
sedition  had  broken  out  with  even  greater  force  in  the 
Faubourg  Saint  Antoine.  He  ran  there  immediately, 
with  the  Due  de  Grammont,  and  appeased  it  as  he  had 
appeased  the  other.  He  returned  to  his  own  home  to 
eat  a  mouthful  or  two,  and  then  set  out  for  Versailles. 
Scarcely  had  he  left  the  Place  Royale  than  the  people 
in  the  streets  and  the  shopkeepers  cried  to  him  to  have 


Saint-Simon  223 

pity  on  them,  and  to  get  them  some  bread,  always  with 
"  Vive  M.  le  Marechal  de  Boufflers !  "  He  was  con- 
ducted thus  as  far  as  the  quay  of  the  Louvre. 

On  arriving  at  Versailles  he  went  straight  to  the 
King,  told  him  what  had  occurred,  and  was  much 
thanked.  He  was  even  offered  by  the  King  the  com- 
mand of  Paris, — troops,  citizens,  police,  and  all ;  but 
this  he  declined,  Paris,  as  he  said,  having  already  a 
governor  and  proper  officers  to  conduct  its  affairs. 
He  afterwards,  however,  willingly  lent  his  aid  to  them 
in  office,  and  the  modesty  with  which  he  acted  brought 
him  new  glory. 

Immediately  after,  the  supply  of  bread  was  carefully 
looked  to.  Paris  was  filled  with  patrols,  perhaps  with 
too  many,  but  they  succeeded  so  well  that  no  fresh 
disturbances  took  place. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

M.  de  Vendome  Out  of  Favour — Death  and  Character  of  the 
Prince  de  Conti — Fall  of  Vendome — Puysegur's  Interview 
with  the  King — Madame  dc  Bourgogne  against  Vendome — 
Her  Decided  Conduct — Vendome  Excluded  from  Marly — 
He  Clings  to  Meudon — From  Which  He  is  also  Expelled 
—  His  Final  Disgrace  and  Abandonment  —  Triumph  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon. 

AFTER  his  return  from  the  campaign,  M.  de  Yen- 
dome  continued  to  be  paid  like  a  general  serv- 
ing in  winter,  and  to  enjoy  many  other  advantages. 
From  all  this,  people  inferred  that  he  would  serve  dur- 
ing the  following  campaign ;  nobody  dared  to  doubt 
as  much,  and  the  cabal  derived  new  strength  therefrom. 
But  their  little  triumph  was  not  of  long  continuance. 
M.  de  Vendome  came  to  Versailles  for  the  ceremony 
of  the  Order  on  Candlemas-Day.  He  then  learned 
that  he  was  not  to  serve,  and  that  he  was  no  longer 
to  receive  general's  pay.  The  blow  was  violent,  and 
he  felt  it  to  its  fullest  extent ;  but,  with  a  prudence 
that  equalled  his  former  imprudence,  he  swallowed  the 
pill  without  making  a  face,  because  he  feared  other 
more  bitter  ones,  which  he  felt  he  had  deserved.  This 
it  was  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  made  him  mod- 
erate. He  did  not  affect  to  conceal  what  had  taken 

224 


Saint-Simon  225 

place,  but  did  not  say  whether  it  was  in  consequence 
of  any  request  of  his,  or  whether  he  was  glad  or  sorry, 
— giving  it  out  as  an  indifferent  piece  of  news ;  and 
changed  nothing  but  his  language,  the  audacity  of 
which  he  diminished  as  no  longer  suited  to  the  times. 
He  sold  his  equipages. 

M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  died  February  22,  aged  not 
quite  forty-five.  His  face  had  been  charming ;  even 
the  defects  of  his  body  and  mind  had  infinite  graces. 
His  shoulders  were  too  high  ;  his  head  was  a  little  on 
one  side  ;  his  laugh  would  have  seemed  a  bray  in  any 
one  else ;  his  mind  was  strangely  absent.  He  was  gal- 
lant with  the  women,  in  love  with  many,  well  treated  by 
several ;  he  was  even  coquettish  with  men.  He  en- 
deavoured to  please  the  cobbler,  the  lackey,  the  por- 
ter, as  well  as  the  Minister  of  State,  the  Grand  Seig- 
neur, the  General, — all  so  naturally  that  success  was 
certain.  He  w-as  consequently  the  constant  delight  of 
every  one,  of  the  Court,  the  armies ;  the  divinity  of 
the  people,  the  idol  of  the  soldiers,  the  hero  of  the 
officers,  the  hope  of  whatever  was  most  distinguished, 
the  love  of  the  Parliament,  the  friend  of  the  learned, 
and  often  the  admiration  of  the  historian,  of  juriscon- 
sults, of  astronomers,  and  mathematicians,  the  most 
profound.  He  was  especially  learned  in  genealogies, 
and  knew  their  chimeras  and  their  realities.  With 
him  the  useful  and  the  polite,  the  agreeable  and  the 
deep,  all  was  distinct  and  in  its  place.  He  had  friends, 
knew  how  to  choose  them,  cultivate  them,  visit  them, 
live  with  them,  put  himself  on  their  level  without 
haughtiness  or  baseness.  But  this  man,  so  amiable, 

so  charming,  so  delicious,  loved  nothing.    He  had  and 
VOL.  II.— 15 


226  Memoirs  of 

desired  friends,  as  other  people  have  and  desire  articles 
of  furniture.  Although  with  much  self-respect  he  was 
a  humble  courtier,  and  showed  too  much  how  greatly 
he  was  in  want  of  support  and  assistance  from  all  sides  ; 
he  was  avaricious,  greedy  of  fortune,  ardent  and  un- 
just. The  King  could  not  bear  him,  and  was  grieved 
with  the  respect  he  was  obliged  to  show  him,  and 
which  he  was  careful  never  to  trespass  over  by  a  single 
jot.  Certain  intercepted  letters  had  excited  a  hatred 
against  him  in  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  an  indigna- 
tion in  the  King  which  nothing  could  efface.  The 
riches,  the  talents,  the  agreeable  qualities,  the  great 
reputation  which  this  Prince  had  acquired,  the  general 
love  of  all,  became  crimes  in  him.  The  contrast  with 
M.  du  Maine  excited  daily  irritation  and  jealousy.  The 
very  purity  of  his  blood  w-as  a  reproach  to  him.  Even 
his  friends  were  odious,  and  felt  that  this  was  so.  At 
last,  however,  various  causes  made  him  to  be  chosen, 
in  the  midst  of  a  very  marked  disgrace,  to  command  the 
army  in  Flanders.  He  was  delighted,  and  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  most  agreeable  hopes.  But  it  was  no 
longer  time :  he  had  sought  to  drown  his  sorrow  at 
wearing  out  his  life  unoccupied  in  wine  and  other  pleas- 
ures, for  which  his  age  and  his  already  enfeebled  body 
were  no  longer  suited.  His  health  gave  way.  He  felt 
it  soon.  The  tardy  return  to  favour  which  he  had  en- 
joyed made  him  regret  life  more.  He  perished  slowly, 
regretting  to  have  been  brought  to  death's  door  by 
disgrace,  and  the  impossibility  of  being  restored  by 
the  unexpected  opening  of  a  brilliant  career. 

The  Prince,  against  the  custom  of  those  of  his  rank, 
had  been  very  well  educated.    He  was  full  of  instruc- 


Saint-Simon  227 

tion.  The  disorders  of  his  life  had  clouded  his  knowl- 
edge but  not  extinguished  it,  and  he  often  read  to 
brush  up  his  learning.  He  chose  M.  de  la  Tour  to  pre- 
pare him,  and  help  him  to  die  well.  He  was  so  at- 
tached to  life  that  all  his  courage  was  required.  For 
three  months  crowds  of  visitors  filled  his  palace,  and 
the  people  even  collected  in  the  place  before  it.  The 
churches  echoed  with  prayers  for  his  life.  The  mem- 
bers of  his  family  often  went  to  pay  for  masses  for  him, 
and  found  that  others  had  already  done  so.  All  ques- 
tions were  about  his  health.  People  stopped  each 
other  in  the  street  to  inquire ;  passers-by  were  called 
to  by  shopmen,  anxious  to  know  whether  the  Prince 
de  Conti  was  to  live  or  to  die.  Amidst  all  this,  Mon- 
seigneur  never  visited  him ;  and,  to  the  indignation 
of  all  Paris,  passed  along  the  quay  near  the  Louvre 
going  to  the  Opera,  whilst  the  sacraments  were  being 
carried  to  the  Prince  on  the  other  side.  He  was  com- 
pelled by  public  opinion  to  make  a  short  visit  after  this. 
The  Prince  died  at  last  in  his  arm-chair,  surrounded 
by  a  few  worthy  people.  Regrets  were  universal ;  but 
perhaps  he  gained  by  his  disgrace.  His  heart  was 
firmer  than  his  head.  He  might  have  been  timid  at 
the  head  of  an  army  or  in  the  Council  of  the  King  if 
he  had  entered  it.  The  King  was  much  relieved  by 
his  death ;  Madame  de  Maintenon  also ;  M.  le  Due 
much  more  ;  for  M.  du  Maine  it  was  a  deliverance,  and 
for  M.  de  Yendome  a  consolation.  Monseigneur 
learned  it  at  Meudon  as  he  was  going  out  to  hunt,  and 
showed  no  feeling  of  any  kind. 

The  death  of  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  seemed  to  the 
Due  de  Vendome  a  considerable  advantage,  because  he 


228  Memoirs  of 

was  thus  delivered  from  a  rival  most  embarrassing  by 
the  superiority  of  his  birth,  just  when  he  was  about  to 
be  placed  in  a  high  military  position.  I  have  already 
mentioned  Vendome's  exclusion  from  command.  The 
fall  of  this  Prince  of  the  Proud  had  then  begun :  we 
have  now  reached  the  second  step,  between  which  and 
the  third  there  was  a  space  of  between  two  and  three 
months ;  but  as  the  third  had  no  connection  with  any 
other  event,  I  will  relate  it  at  once. 

Whatever  reasons  existed  to  induce  the  King  to  take 
from  M.  de  Vendome  the  command  of  his  armies,  I 
know  not,  if  all  the  art  and  credit  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  would  not  have  been  employed  in  vain,  together 
with  the  intrigues  of  M.  clu  Maine,  without  an  advent- 
ure, which  I  must  at  once  explain,  to  set  before  the 
reader's  eyes  the  issue  of  the  terrible  struggle,  pushed 
to  such  extremes,  between  Vendome,  seconded  by  his 
formidable  cabal,  and  the  necessary  heir  of  the  Crown, 
supported  by  his  wife,  the  favourite  of  the  King,  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  which  last,  to  speak  clearly, 
as  all  the  Court  saw,  for  thirty  years  governed  him 
completely. 

When  M.  de  Vendome  returned  from  Flanders,  he 
had  a  short  interview  with  the  King,  in  which  he  made 
many  bitter  complaints  against  Puysegur,  one  of  his 
lieutenant-generals,  whose  sole  offence  was  that  he  was 
much  attached  to  M.  de  Bourgogne.  Puysegur  was  a 
great  favourite  with  the  King,  and  often,  on  account  of 
the  business  of  the  infantry  regiment,  of  which  the  King 
thought  himself  the  private  colonel,  had  private  inter- 
views with  him,  and  was  held  in  high  estimation  for  his 
capacity  and  virtue.  He,  in  his  turn,  came  back  from 


Saint-Simon  229 

Flanders,  and  had  a  private  audience  of  the  King.  The 
complaints  that  had  been  made  against  him  by  M.  de 
Yendome  were  repeated  to  him  by  the  King,  who,  how- 
ever, did  not  mention  from  whom  they  came.  Puyse- 
gur  defended  himself  so  well,  that  the  King  in  his 
surprise  mentioned  this  latter  fact.  At  the  name  of 
Yendome,  Puysegur  lost  all  patience.  He  described  to 
the  King  all  the  faults,  the  impertinences,  the  obstinacy, 
the  insolence  of  M.  de  Yendome,  with  a  precision  and 
clearness  which  made  his  listener  very  attentive  and 
very  fruitful  in  questions.  Puysegur,  seeing  that  he 
might  go  on,  gave  himself  rein,  unmasked  M.  de  Yen- 
dome  from  top  to  toe,  described  his  ordinary  life  at 
the  army,  the  incapacity  of  his  body,  the  incapacity  of 
his  judgment,  the  prejudices  of  his  mind,  the  absurdity 
and  crudity  of  his  maxims,  his  utter  ignorance  of  the 
art  of  war,  and  showed  to  demonstration,  that  it  was 
only  by  a  profusion  of  miracles  France  had  not  been 
ruined  by  him — lost  a  hundred  times  over. 

The  conversation  lasted  more  than  two  hours.  The 
King,  long  since  convinced  of  the  capacity,  fidelity,  and 
truthfulness  of  Puysegur,  at  last  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
truth  respecting  this  Yendome,  hidden  with  so  much 
art  until  then,  and  regarded  as  a  hero  and  the  tutelary 
genius  of  France.  He  was  vexed  and  ashamed  of  his 
credulity,  and  from  the  date  of  this  conversation  Yen- 
dome  fell  at  once  from  his  favour. 

Puysegur,  naturally  humble,  gentle,  and  modest,  but 
truthful,  and  on  this  occasion  piqued,  went  out  into  the 
gallery  after  his  conversation,  and  made  a  general  re- 
port of  it  to  all,  virtuously  braving  Yendome  and  all  his 
cabal.  This  cabal  trembled  with  rage;  Yendome  still 


230  Memoirs  of 

more  so.  They  answered  by  miserable  reasonings, 
which  nobody  cared  for.  This  was  what  led  to  the 
suppression  of  his  pay,  and  his  retirement  to  Anet, 
where  he  affected  a  philosophical  indifference. 

Crestfallen  as  he  was,  he  continued  to  sustain  at  Meu- 
don  and  Marly  the  grand  manners  he  had  usurped  at 
the  time  of  his  prosperity.  After  having  got  over  the 
first  embarrassment,  he  put  on  again  his  haughty  air, 
and  ruled  the  roast.  To  see  him  at  Meudon  you  would 
have  said  he  was  certainly  the  master  of  the  saloon,  and 
by  his  free  and  easy  manner  to  Monseigneur,  and,  when 
he  dared,  to  the  King,  he  would  have  been  thought  the 
principal  person  there.  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne 
supported  this — his  piety  made  him  do  so — but  Ma- 
dame de  Bourgogne  was  grievously  offended,  and 
watched  her  opportunity  to  get  rid  of  M.  de  Vendome 
altogether. 

It  came,  the  first  journey  the  King  made  to  Marly 
after  Easter.  Brclan  was  then  the  fashion.  Mon- 
seigneur, playing  at  it  one  day  with  Madame  de  Bour- 
gogne and  others,  and  being  in  want  of  a  fifth  player, 
sent  for  M.  de  Vendome  from  the  other  end  of  the 
saloon,  to  come  and  join  the  party.  That  instant  Ma- 
dame de  Bourgogne  said  modestly,  but  very  intelli- 
gibly, to  Monseigneur,  that  the  presence  of  M.  de  Ven- 
dome at  Marly  was  sufficiently  painful  to  her,  without 
having  him  at  play  with  her,  and  that  she  begged  he 
might  be  dispensed  with.  Monseigneur,  who  had  sent 
for  Vendome  without  the  slightest  reflection,  looked 
round  the  room,  and  sent  for  somebody  else.  When 
Vendome  arrived,  his  place  was  taken,  and  he  had  to 
suffer  this  annoyance  before  all  the  company.  It  may 


Saint-Simon  231 

be  imagined  to  what  an  extent  this  superb  gentleman 
was  stung  by  the  affront.  He  served  no  longer;  he 
commanded  no  longer;  he  was  no  longer  the  adored 
idol;  he  found  himself  in  the  paternal  mansion  of  the 
Prince  he  had  so  cruelly  offended,  and  the  outraged 
wife  of  that  Prince  was  more  than  a  match  for  him. 
He  turned  upon  his  heel,  absented  himself  from  the 
room  as  soon  as  he  could,  and  retired  to  his  own  cham- 
ber, there  to  storm  at  his  leisure. 

Other  and  more  cruel  annoyances  were  yet  in  store 
for  him  however.  Madame  de  Bourgogne  reflected 
on  what  had  just  taken  place.  The  facility  with  which 
she  had  succeeded  in  one  respect  encouraged  her,  but 
she  was  a  little  troubled  to  know  how  the  King  would 
take  what  she  had  done,  and  accordingly,  whilst  play- 
ing, she  resolved  to  push  matters  still  further,  both  to 
ruin  her  guest  utterly  and  to  get  out  of  her  embarrass- 
ment; for,  despite  her  extreme  familiarity,  she  was  eas- 
ily embarrassed,  being  gentle  and  timid.  The  brchin 
over,  she  ran  to  Madame  de  Maintenon;  told  her  what 
had  just  occurred;  said  that  the  presence  of  M.  de  Ven- 
dome  at  Marly  was  a  continual  insult  to  her;  and 
begged  her  to  solicit  the  King  to  forbid  M.  de  Ven- 
dome  to  come  there.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  only  too 
glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  revenging  herself  upon 
an  enemy  who  had  set  her  at  defiance,  and  against  whom 
all  her  batteries  had  at  one  time  failed,  consented  to 
this  request.  She  spoke  out  to  the  King,  who,  com- 
pletely weary  of  M.  de  Vendome,  and  troubled  to  have 
under  his  eyes  a  man  whom  he  could  not  doubt  was 
discontented,  at  once  granted  what  was  asked.  Before 
going  to  bed,  he  charged  one  of  his  valets  to  tell  M. 


232  Memoirs  of 

de  Yenclome  the  next  morning,  that  henceforth  he  was 
to  absent  himself  from  Marly,  his  presence  there  being 
disagreeable  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne. 

It  may  be  imagined  into  what  an  excess  of  despair 
M.  de  Vendome  fell,  at  a  message  so  unexpected,  and 
which  sapped  the  foundations  of  all  his  hopes.  He 
kept  silent,  however,  for  fear  of  making  matters  worse, 
did  not  venture  attempting  to  speak  to  the  King,  and 
hastily  retired  to  Clichy  to  hide  his  rage  and  shame. 
The  news  of  his  banishment  from  Marly  soon  spread 
abroad,  and  made  so  much  stir,  that  to  show  it  was 
not  worth  attention,  he  returned  two  days  before  the 
end  of  the  visit,  and  stopped  until  the  end  in  a  con- 
tinual shame  and  embarrassment.  He  set  out  for  Anet 
at  the  same  time  that  the  King  set  out  for  Versailles, 
and  has  never  since  put  his  foot  in  Marly. 

But  another  bitter  draught  was  to  be  mixed  for  him. 
Banished  from  Marly,  he  had  yet  the  privilege  of  go- 
ing to  Meudon.  He  did  not  fail  to  avail  himself  of  this 
every  time  Monseigneur  was  there,  and  stopped  as  long 
as  he  stopped,  although  in  the  times  of  his  splendour 
he  had  never  stayed  more  than  one  or  two  days.  It 
was  seldom  that  Monseigneur  visited  Meudon  without 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  going  to  see  him. 
And  yet  M.  de  Yendome  never  failed  audaciously  to 
present  himself  before  her,  as  if  to  make  her  feel  that 
at  all  events  in  Monseigneur's  house  he  was  a  match 
for  her.  Guided  by  former  experience,  the  Princess 
gently  suffered  this  in  silence,  and  watched  her  op- 
portunity. It  soon  came. 

Two  months  afterwards  it  happened  that,  while  Mon- 
seigneur was  at  Meudon,  the  King,  Madame  de  Main- 


Saint-Simon  233 

tenon,  and  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  came  to  dine  with 
him.  Madame  de  Maintenon  wished  to  talk  with  Ma- 
demoiselle Choin  without  sending  for  her  to  Versailles, 
and  the  King,  as  may  be  believed,  was  in  the  secret. 
I  mention  this  to  account  for  the  King's  visit.  M.  de 
Yendome,  who  was  at  Meudon  as  usual,  was  stupid 
enough  to  present  himself  at  the  coach  door  as  the 
King  and  his  companions  descended.  Madame  de 
Bourgogne  was  much  offended,  constrained  herself  less 
than  usual,  and  turned  away  her  head  with  affectation, 
after  a  sort  of  sham  salute.  He  felt  the  sting,  but  had 
the  folly  to  approach  her  again  after  dinner,  while  she 
was  playing.  He  experienced  the  same  treatment,  but 
this  time  in  a  still  more  marked  manner.  Stung  to  the 
quick  and  out  of  countenance,  he  went  up  to  his  cham- 
ber, and  did  not  descend  until  very  late.  During  this 
time  Madame  de  Bourgogne  spoke  to  Monseigneur  of 
the  conduct  of  M.  de  Yendome,  and  the  same  evening 
she  addressed  herself  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 
openly  complained  to  the  King.  She  represented  to 
him  how  hard  it  was  to  her  to  be  treated  by  Mon- 
seigneur with  less  respect  than  by  the  King:  for  while 
the  latter  had  banished  M.  de  Yendome  from  Marly, 
the  former  continued  to  grant  him  an  asylum  at 
Meudon. 

M.  de  Yendome,  on  his  side,  complained  bitterly  to 
Monseigneur  of  the  strange  persecution  that  he  suf- 
fered everywhere  from  Madame  de  Bourgogne;  but 
Monseigneur  replied  to  him  so  coldly  that  he  withdrew 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  determined,  however,  not  to  give 
up  until  he  had  obtained  some  sort  of  satisfaction.  He 
set  his  friends  to  work  to  speak  to  Monseigneur;  all 


234  Memoirs  of 

they  could  draw  from  him  was,  that  M.  de  Vendome 
must  avoid  Madame  de  Bourgogne  whenever  she  came 
to  Meudon,  and  that  it  was  the  smallest  respect  he  owed 
her  until  she  was  reconciled  to  him.  A  reply  so  dry 
and  so  precise  was  cruelly  felt;  but  M.  de  Vendome  was 
not  at  the  end  of  the  chastisement  he  had  more  than 
merited.  The  next  day  put  an  end  to  all  discussion 
upon  the  matter. 

He  was  card-playing  after  dinner  in  a  private  cabi- 
net, when  D'Antin  arrived  from  Versailles.  He  ap- 
proached the  players,  and  asked  what  was  the  position 
of  the  game,  with  an  eagerness  which  made  M.  de  Ven- 
dome inquire  the  reason.  D'Antin  said  he  had  to 
render  an  account  to  him  of  the  matter  he  had  entrusted 
him  with. 

"I!"  exclaimed  Vendome,  with  surprise,  "I  have 
entrusted  you  with  nothing." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  D'Antin;  "you  do  not  recol- 
lect, then,  that  I  have  an  answer  to  make  to  you?  " 

From  this  perseverance  M.  de  Vendome  compre- 
hended that  something  was  amiss,  quitted  his  game, 
and  went  into  an  obscure  wardrobe  with  D'Antin,  who 
told  him  that  he  had  been  ordered  by  the  King  to  beg 
Monseigneur  not  to  invite  M.  de  Vendome  to  Meudon 
any  more;  that  his  presence  there  was  as  unpleasant  to 
Madame  de  Bourgogne  as  it  had  been  at  Marly.  Upon 
this,  Vendome,  transported  with  fury,  vomited  forth  all 
that  his  rage  inspired  him  with.  He  spoke  to  Mon- 
seigneur in  the  evening,  but  was  listened  to  as  coldly 
as  before.  Vendome  passed  the  rest  of  his  visit  in  a 
rage  and  embarrassment  easy  to  conceive,  and  on  the 
day  Monseigneur  returned  to  Versailles  he  hurried 
straight  to  Anet. 


Saint-Simon  235 

But  he  was  unable  to  remain  quiet  anywhere;  so  went 
off  with  his  dogs,  under  pretence  of  going  a  hunting, 
to  pass  a  month  in  his  estate  of  La  Ferte-Aleps,  where 
he  had  no  proper  lodging  and  no  society,  and  gave 
there  free  vent  to  his  rage.  Thence  he  returned  again 
to  Anet,  where  he  remained  abandoned  by  every  one. 
Into  this  solitude,  into  this  startling  and  public  seclu- 
sion, incapable  of  sustaining  a  fall  so  complete,  after 
a  long  habit  of  attaining  everything,  and  doing  every- 
thing he  pleased,  of  being  the  idol  of  the  world,  of  the 
Court,  of  the  armies,  of  making  his  very  vices  adored, 
and  his  greatest  faults  admired,  his  defects  commended, 
— so  that  he  dared  to  conceive  the  prodigious  design 
of  ruining  and  destroying  the  necessary  heir  of  the 
Crown,  though  he  had  never  received  anything  but  evi- 
dences of  tenderness  from  him,  and  triumphed  over  him 
for  eight  months  with  the  most  scandalous  success, — 
it  was,  I  say,  thus  that  this  Colossus  was  overthrown  by 
the  breath  of  a  prudent  and  courageous  princess,  who 
earned  by  this  act  merited  applause.  All  who  were 
concerned  with  her,  were  charmed  to  see  of  what  she 
was  capable;  and  all  who  were  opposed  to  her  and  her 
husband  trembled.  The  cabal,  so  formidable,  so  lofty, 
so  accredited,  so  closely  united  to  overthrow  them,  and 
reign,  after  the  King,  under  Monseigneur  in  their  place 
— these  chiefs,  male  and  female,  so  enterprising  and 
audacious,  fell  now  into  mortal  discouragement  and 
fear.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  them  work  their  way 
back  with  art  and  extreme  humility,  and  turn  round 
those  of  the  opposite  party  who  remained  influential, 
and  whom  they  had  hitherto  despised;  and  especially 
to  see  with  what  embarrassment,  what  fear,  what  terror, 


236  Saint-Simon 

they  began  to  crawl  before  the  young  Princess,  and 
wretchedly  court  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  and  his  friends, 
and  bend  to  them  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner. 

As  for  M.  de  Vendome,  without  any  resource,  save 
what  he  found  in  his  vices  and  his  valets,  he  did  not 
refrain  from  bragging  among  them  of  the  friendship 
of  Monseigneur  for  him,  of  which  he  said  he  was  well 
assured.  Violence  had  been  done  to  Monseigneur's 
feelings.  He  was  reduced  to  this  misery  of  hoping 
that  his  words  would  be  spread  about  by  these  valets, 
and  would  procure  him  some  consideration  from  those 
who  thought  of  the  future.  But  the  present  was  insup- 
portable to  him.  To  escape  from  it,  he  thought  of 
serving  in  Spain,  and  wrote  to  Madame  des  Ursins  ask- 
ing employment.  The  King  was  annoyed  at  this  step, 
and  flatly  refused  to  let  him  go  to  Spain.  His  intrigue, 
therefore,  came  to  an  end  at  once. 

Nobody  gained  more  by  the  fall  of  M.  de  Vendome 
than  Madame  de  Maintenon.  Besides  the  joy  she  felt 
in  overthrowing  a  man  who,  through  M.  du  Maine, 
owed  everything  to  her,  and  yet  dared  to  resist  her  so 
long  and  successfully,  she  felt,  also,  that  her  credit 
became  still  more  the  terror  of  the  Court;  for  no  one 
doubted  that  what  had  occurred  was  a  great  example 
of  her  power.  We  shall  presently  see  how  she  fur- 
nished another,  which  startled  no  less. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Death  of  Pere  La  Chaise — His  Infirmities  in  Old  Age — Par- 
tiality of  the  King — Character  of  Pere  La  Chaise — The 
Jesuits — Choice  of  a  New  Confessor — Fagon's  Opinion — 
Destruction  of  Port  Royal — Jansenists  and  Molinists — 
Pascal — Violent  Oppression  of  the  Inhabitants  of  Port 
Royal. 

IT  is  time  now  to  retrace  my  steps  to  the  point  from 
which  I  have  been  led  away  in  relating  all  the  in- 
cidents which  arose  out  of  the  terrible  winter  and  the 
scarcity  it  caused. 

The  Court  at  that  time  beheld  the  renewal  of  a  min- 
istry, which  from  the  time  it  had  lasted  was  worn  down 
to  its  very  roots,  and  which  was  on  that  account  only 
the  more  agreeable  to  the  King.  On  the  2oth  of  Jan- 
uary, the  Pere  La  Chaise,  the  confessor  of  the  King, 
died  at  a  very  advanced  age.  He  was  of  good  family, 
and  his  father  would  have  been  rich  had  he  not  had 
a  dozen  children.  Pere  La  Chaise  succeeded  in  1675 
to  Pere  Ferrier  as  confessor  of  the  King,  and  occupied 
that  post  thirty-two  years.  The  festival  of  Easter  often 
caused  him  politic  absences  during  the  attachment  of 
the  King  for  Madame  de  Montespan.  On  one  occa- 
sion he  sent  in  his  place  the  Pere  Deschamps,  who 
bravely  refused  absolution.  The  Pere  La  Chaise  was 

237 


238  Memoirs  of 

of  mediocre  mind  but  of  good  character,  just,  upright, 
sensible,  prudent,  gentle,  and  moderate,  an  enemy  of 
informers,  and  of  violence  of  every  kind.  He  kept 
clear  of  many  scandalous  transactions,  befriended  the 
Archbishop  of  Cambrai  as  much  as  he  could,  refused 
to  push  the  Port  Royal  des  Champs  to  its  destruction, 
and  always  had  on  his  table  a  copy  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment of  Pere  Quesnel,  saying  that  he  liked  what  was 
good  wherever  he  found  it.  When  near  his  eightieth 
year,  with  his  head  and  his  health  still  good,  he  wished 
to  retire,  but  the  King  w-ould  not  hear  of  it.  Soon  af- 
ter, his  faculties  became  worn  out,  and  feeling  this,  he 
repeated  his  wish.  The  Jesuits,  who  perceived  his  fail- 
ing more  than  he  did  himself,  and  felt  the  diminution 
of  his  credit,  exhorted  him  to  make  way  for  another 
who  should  have  the  grace  and  zeal  of  novelty.  For 
his  part  he  sincerely  desired  repose,  and  he  pressed 
the  King  to  allow  him  to  take  it,  but  all  in  vain.  He 
was  obliged  to  bear  his  burthen  to  the  very  end.  Even 
the  infirmities  and  the  decrepitude  that  afflicted  could 
not  deliver  him.  Decaying  legs,  memory  extinguished, 
judgment  collapsed,  all  his  faculties  confused,  strange 
inconveniences  for  a  confessor — nothing  could  disgust 
the  King,  and  he  persisted  in  having  this  corpse  brought 
to  him  and  carrying  on  customary  business  with  it. 
At  last,  two  days  after  a  return  from  Versailles,  he  grew 
much  weaker,  received  the  sacrament,  wrote  with  his 
own  hand  a  long  letter  to  the  King,  received  a  very 
rapid  and  hurried  one  in  reply,  and  soon  after  died  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  very  peaceably.  His  con- 
fessor asked  him  two  things,  whether  he  had  acted  ac- 
cording to  his  conscience,  and  whether  he  had  thought 


Saint-Simon  239 

of  the  interests  and  honour  of  the  company  of  Jesuits; 
and  to  both  these  questions  he  answered  satisfactorily. 

The  news  was  brought  to  the  King  as  he  came  out 
of  his  cabinet.  He  received  it  like  a  Prince  accustomed 
to  losses,  praised  the  Pere  La  Chaise  for  his  goodness, 
and  then  said  smilingly,  before  all  the  courtiers,  and 
quite  aloud,  to  the  two  fathers  who  had  come  to  an- 
nounce the  death:  "  He  was  so  good  that  I  sometimes 
reproached  him  for  it,  and  he  used  to  reply  to  me :  '  It 
is  not  I  who  am  good;  it  is  you  who  are  hard.' ' 

Truly  the  fathers  and  all  the  auditors  were  so  sur- 
prised at  this  that  they  lowered  their  eyes.  The  re- 
mark spread  directly;  nobody  was  able  to  blame  the 
Pere  La  Chaise.  He  was  generally  regretted,  for  he 
had  done  much  good  and  never  harm  except  in  self- 
defence.  Marechal,  first  surgeon  of  the  King,  and 
possessed  of  his  confidence,  related  once  to  me  and  Ma- 
dame de  Saint-Simon,  a  very  important  anecdote  refer- 
ring to  this  time.  He  said  that  the  King,  talking  to 
him  privately  of  the  Pere  La  Chaise,  and  praising  him 
for  his  attachment,  related  one  of  the  great  proofs  he 
had  given  of  it.  A  few  years  before  his  death  the  Pere 
said  that  he  felt  getting  old,  and  that  the  King  might 
soon  have  to  choose  a  new  confessor;  he  begged  that 
that  confessor  might  be  chosen  from  among  the  Jesu- 
its, that  he  knew  them  well,  that  they  were  far  from 
deserving  all  that  had  been  said  against  them,  but — 
still — he  knew  them  well- — and  that  attachment  for  the 
King  and  desire  for  his  safety  induced  him  to  conjure 
him  to  act  as  he  requested;  because  the  company  con- 
tained many  sorts  of  minds  and  characters  which  could 
not  be  answered  for,  and  must  not  be  reduced  to  de- 


240  Memoirs  of 

spair,  and  that  the  King  must  not  incur  a  risk — that 
in  fact  an  unlucky  blow  is  soon  given,  and  had  been 
given  before  then.  Marechal  turned  pale  at  this  re- 
cital of  the  King,  and  concealed  as  well  as  he  could  the 
disorder  it  caused  in  him.  We  must  remember  that 
Henry  IV.  recalled  the  Jesuits,  and  loaded  them  with 
gifts  merely  from  fear  of  them.  The  King  was  not 
superior  to  Henry  IV.  He  took  care  not  to  forget 
the  communication  of  the  Pere  La  Chaise,  or  expose 
himself  to  the  vengeance  of  the  company  by  choosing 
a  confessor  out  of  their  limits.  He  wanted  to  live,  and 
to  live  in  safety.  He  requested  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse 
and,  de  Beauvilliers  to  make  secret  inquiries  for  a  proper 
person.  They  fell  into  a  trap  made,  were  dupes  them- 
selves, and  the  Church  and  State  the  victims. 

The  Pere  Tellier,  in  fact,  was  chosen  as  successor  of 
Pere  La  Chaise,  and  a  terrible  successor  he  made. 
Harsh,  exact,  laborious,  enemy  of  all  dissipation,  of  all 
amusement,  of  all  society,  incapable  of  associating  even 
with  his  colleagues,  he  demanded  no  leniency  for  him- 
self and  accorded  none  to  others.  His  brain  and  his 
health  were  of  iron;  his  conduct  was  so  also;  his  nat- 
ure was  savage  and  cruel.  He  was  profoundly  false, 
deceitful,  hidden  under  a  thousand  folds;  and  when  he 
could  show  himself  and  make  himself  feared,  he  yielded 
nothing,  laughed  at  the  most  express  promises  when 
he  no  longer  cared  to  keep  to  them,  and  pursued  with 
fury  those  who  had  trusted  to  them.  He  was  the  ter- 
ror even  of  the  Jesuits,  and  was  so  violent  to  them  that 
they  scarcely  dared  approach  him.  His  exterior  kept 
faith  with  his  interior.  He  would  have  been  terrible 
to  meet  in  a  dark  lane.  His  physiognomy  was  cloudy, 


Saint-Simon  241 

false,  terrible;  his  eyes  were  burning,  evil,  extremely 
squinting;  his  aspect  struck  all  with  dismay.  The 
whole  aim  of  his  life  was  to  advance  the  interests  of  .his 
Society ;  that  was  his  god ;  his  life  had  been  absorbed 
in  that  study:  surprisingly  ignorant,  insolent,  impudent, 
impetuous,  without  measure  and  without  discretion,  all 
means  were  good  that  furthered  his  designs. 

The  first  time  Pere  Tellier  saw  the  King  in  his  cabi- 
net, after  having  been  presented  to  him,  there  was  no- 
body but  Bloin  and  Fagon  in  a  corner.  Fagon,  bent 
double  and  leaning  on  his  stick,  watched  the  interview 
and  studied  the  physiognomy  of  this  new  personage 
— his  duckings,  and  scrapings,  and  his  words.  The 
King  asked  him  if  he  were  a  relation  of  MM.  le  Tellier. 
The  good  father  humbled  himself  in  the  dust.  "  I, 
Sire!  "  answered  he,  "  a  relative  of  MM.  le  Tellier!  I 
am  very  different  from  that.  I  am  a  poor  peasant  of 
Lower  Normandy,  where  my  father  was  a  farmer." 
Fagon,  who  watched  him  in  every  movement,  twisted 
himself  up  to  look  at  Bloin,  and  said,  pointing  to  the 
Jesuit:  "  Monsieur,  what  a  cursed  —  — !  "  Then  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  he  curved  over  his  stick  again.  It 
turned  out  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in  his  strange  judg- 
ment of  a  confessor.  This  Tellier  made  all  the  grim- 
aces, not  to  say  the  hypocritical  monkey-tricks  of  a 
man  who  was  afraid  of  his  place,  and  only  took  it  out 
of  deference  to  his  company. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  upon  this  new  confessor,  because 
from  him  have  come  the  incredible  tempests  under 
which  the  Church,  the  State,  knowledge,  and  doctrine, 
and  many  good  people  of  all  kinds,  are  still  groaning; 
and  because  I  had  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with 
VOL.  II.— 16 


242  Memoirs  of 

this  terrible  personage  than  had  any  man  at  the  Court. 
He  introduced  himself  to  me  in  fact,  to  my  surprise; 
and  although  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  shun  his  ac- 
quaintance, I  could  not  succeed.  He  was  too  danger- 
ous a  man  to  be  treated  with  anything  but  great 
prudence. 

During  the  autumn  of  this  year,  he  gave  a  sample  of 
his  quality  in  the  part  he  took  in  the  destruction  of  the 
celebrated  monastery  of  Port  Royal  des  Champs.  I 
need  not  dwell  at  any  great  length  upon  the  origin 
and  progress  of  the  two  religious  parties,  the  Jansenists 
and  the  Molinists;  enough  has  been  written  on  both 
sides  to  form  a  whole  library.  It  is  enough  for  me  to 
say  that  the  Molinists  were  so  called  because  they 
adopted  the  views  expounded  by  the  Pere  Molina  in 
a  book  he  wrote  against  the  doctrines  of  St.  Augustin 
and  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  upon  the  subject  of  spir- 
itual grace.  The  Pere  Molina  was  a  Jesuit,  and  it  was 
by  the  Jesuits  his  book  was  brought  forward  and  sup- 
ported. Finding,  however,  that  the  views  it  expounded 
met  with  general  opposition,  not  only  throughout 
France,  but  at  Rome,  they  had  recourse  to  their  usual 
artifices  on  feeling  themselves  embarrassed,  turned 
themselves  into  accusers  instead  of  defendants,  and  in- 
vented a  heresy  that  had  neither  author  nor  follower, 
which  they  attributed  to  Cornelius  Jansenius,  Bishop  of 
Ypres.  Many  and  long  were  the  discussions  at  Rome 
upon  this  ideal  heresy,  invented  by  the  Jesuits  solely 
for  the  purpose  of  weakening  the  adversaries  of  Molina. 
To  oppose  his  doctrines  was  to  be  a  Jansenist.  That 
in  substance  was  what  was  meant  by  Jansenism. 

At  the  monastery  of  Port  Royal  des  Champs,  a  num- 


Saint-Simon  243 

her  of  holy  and  learned  personages  lived  in  retirement. 
Some  wrote,  some  gathered  youths  around  them,  and 
instructed  them  in  science  and  piety.  The  finest  moral 
works,  works  which  have  thrown  the  most  light  upon 
the  science  and  practice  of  religion,  and  have  been 
found  so  by  everybody,  issued  from  their  hands.  These 
men  entered  into  the  quarrel  against  Molinism.  This 
was  enough  to  excite  against  them  the  hatred  of  the 
Jesuits,  and  to  determine  that  body  to  attempt  their 
destruction. 

They  were  accused  of  Jansenism,  and  defended  them- 
selves perfectly;  but  at  the  same  time  they  carried  the 
war  into  the  enemy's  camp,  especially  by  the  ingenious 
"  Provincial  Letters  "  of  the  famous  Pascal. 

The  quarrel  grew  more  hot  between  the  Jesuits  and 
Port  Royal,  and  was  telling  against  the  former,  when 
the  Pere  Tellier  brought  all  his  influence  to  bear,  to 
change  the  current  of  success.  He  was,  as  I  have  said, 
an  ardent  man,  whose  divinity  was  his  Molinism,  and 
the  company  to  which  he  belonged.  Confessor  to  the 
King,  he  saw  himself  in  a  good  position  to  exercise 
unlimited  authority.  He  saw  that  the  King  was  very 
ignorant,  and  prejudiced  upon  all  religions  matters; 
that  he  was  surrounded  by  people  as  ignorant  and  as 
prejudiced  as  himself,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  M.  de 
Beauvilliers,  M.  de  Chevreuse,  and  others,  and  he  de- 
termined to  take  good  advantage  of  this  state  of  things. 
Step  by  step  he  gained  over  the  King  to  his  views,  and 
convinced  him  that  the  destruction  of  the  monastery 
of  Port  Royal  des  Champs  was  a  duty  which  lie  owed 
to  his  conscience,  and  the  cause  of  religion.  This  point 
gained,  the  means  to  destroy  the  establishment  were 
soon  resolved  on. 


244  Memoirs  of 

There  was  another  monastery  called  Port  Royal,  at 
Paris,  in  addition  to  the  one  in  question.  It  was  now 
pretended  that  the  latter  had  only  been  allowed  to  exist 
by  tolerance,  and  that  it  was  necessary  one  should  cease 
to  exist.  Of  the  two,  it  was  alleged  that  it  was  better 
to  preserve  the  one  at  Paris.  A  decree  in  council  was, 
therefore,  rendered,  in  virtue  of  which,  on  the  night 
from  the  28th  to  the  2Qth  of  October,  the  abbey  of  Port 
Royal  des  Champs  was  secretly  invested  by  troops,  and, 
on  the  next  morning,  the  officer  in  command  made  all 
the  inmates  assemble,  showed  them  a  Icttrc  dc  cachet, 
and,  without  giving  them  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  warning,  carried  off  everybody  and  everything. 
He  had  brought  with  him  many  coaches,  with  an  elderly 
woman  in  each;  he  put  the  nuns  in  these  coaches,  and 
sent  them  away  to  their  destinations,  which  were  dif- 
ferent monasteries,  at  ten,  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  and 
even  fifty  leagues  distant,  each  coach  accompanied  by 
mounted  archers,  just  as  public  women  are  carried  away 
from  a  house  of  ill-fame!  I  pass  in  silence  all  the  ac- 
companiments to  this  scene,  so  touching  and  so 
strangely  new.  There  have  been  entire  volumes  writ- 
ten upon  it. 

The  treatment  that  these  nuns  received  in  their  va- 
rious prisons,  in  order  to  force  them  to  sign  a  con- 
demnation of  themselves,  is  the  matter  of  other  volumes, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the  oppressors,  were 
soon  in  everybody's  hands;  public  indignation  so  burst 
out,  that  the  Court  and  the  Jesuits  even  were  embar- 
rassed with  it.  But  the  Pere  Tcllier  was  not  a  man 
to  stop  half-way  anywhere.  He  finished  this  matter 
directly;  decree  followed  decree,  Icttrcs  dc  cachet  fol- 


Saint-Simon 


245 


lowed  Icttrcs  dc  cachet.  The  families  who  had  relatives 
buried  in  the  cemetery  of  Port  Royal  des  Champs  were 
ordered  to  exhume  and  carry  them  elsewhere.  All  the 
others  were  thrown  into  the  cemetery  of  an  adjoining 
parish,  with  the  indecency  that  may  be  imagined.  Af- 
terwards, the  house,  the  church,  and  all  the  buildings 
were  razed  to  the  ground,  so  that  not  one  stone  was 
left  upon  another.  All  the  materials  were  sold,  the 
ground  was  ploughed  up,  and  sown — not  with  salt,  it 
is  true,  but  that  was  all  the  favour  it  received!  The 
scandal  at  this  reached  even  to  Rome.  I  have  restrict- 
ed myself  to  this  simple  and  short  recital  of  an  expedi- 
tion so  militarv  and  so  odious. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Death  of  D'Avaux — A  Quarrel  about  a  Window — Louvois  and 
the  King — Anecdote  of  Boisseuil — Madame  de  Maintenon 
and  M.  de  Beauvilliers — Harcourt  Proposed  for  the  Council 
— His  Disappointment — Death  of  M.  le  Prince — His  Char- 
acter— Treatment  of  His  Wife — His  Love  Adventures — His 
Madness — A  Confessor  Brought — Nobody  Regrets  Him. 

THE  death  of  D'Avaux,  who  had  formerly  been  our 
ambassador  in  Holland,  occurred  in  the  early 
part  of  this  year  (1709).  D'Avaux  was  one  of  the 
first  to  hear  of  the  project  of  William  of  Orange  upon 
England,  when  that  project  was  still  only  in  embryo, 
and  kept  profoundly  secret.  He  apprised  the  King 
(Louis  XIV.)  of  it,  but  was  laughed  at.  Barillon,  then 
our  ambassador  in  England,  was  listened  to  in  prefer- 
ence. He,  deceived  by  Sunderland  and  the  other 
perfidious  ministers  of  James  II.,  assured  our  Court 
that  D'Avaux's  reports  were  mere  chimeras.  It  was 
not  until  it  was  impossible  any  longer  to  doubt  that 
credit  was  given  to  them.  The  steps  that  we  then 
took,  instead  of  disconcerting  all  the  measures  of  the 
conspirators,  as  we  could  have  done,  did  not  interfere 
with  the  working  out  of  any  one  of  their  plans.  All 
liberty  was  left,  in  fact,  to  William  to  carry  out  his 
scheme.  The  anecdote  which  explains  how  this  hap- 

246  2 


Saint-Simon  247 

pened  is  so  curious,  that  it  deserves  to  be  mentioned 
here. 

Louvois,  who  was  then  Minister  of  War,  was  also 
superintendent  of  the  buildings.  The  King,  who  liked 
building,  and  who  had  cast  off  all  his  mistresses,  had 
pulled  down  the  little  porcelain  Trianon  he  had  made 
for  Madame  de  Montespan,  and  wras  rebuilding  it  in 
the  form  it  still  retains.  One  day  he  perceived,  for  his 
glance  was  most  searching,  that  one  window  wras  a 
trifle  narrower  than  the  others.  He  showed  it  to  Lou- 
vois, in  order  that  it  might  be  altered,  which,  as  it  was 
not  then  finished,  was  easy  to  do.  Louvois  sustained 
that  the  window  was  all  right.  The  King  insisted 
then,  and  on  the  morrow  also,  but  Louvois,  pig-headed 
and  inflated  with  his  authority,  would  not  yield. 

The  next  day  the  King  saw  Le  Xotre  in  the  gallery. 
Although  his  trade  was  gardens  rather  than  houses, 
the  King  did  not  fail  to  consult  him  upon  the  latter. 
He  asked  him  if  he  had  been  to  Trianon.  Le  Xotre 
replied  that  he  had  not.  The  King  ordered  him  to  go. 
On  the  morrow  he  saw  Le  Xotre  again  ;  same  ques- 
tion, same  answer.  The  King  comprehended  the  rea- 
son of  this,  and  a  little  annoyed,  commanded  him  to 
be  there  that  afternoon  at  a  given  time.  Le  X"otre 
did  not  dare  to  disobey  this  time.  The  King  arrived, 
and  Louvois  being  present,  they  returned  to  the  sub- 
ject of  the  window,  which  Louvois  obstinately  said  was 
as  broad  as  the  rest.  The  King  wished  Le  Xotre  to 
measure  it,  for  he  knew  that,  upright  and  true,  he 
would  openly  say  what  he  found.  Louvois  piqued, 
grew  angry.  The  King,  who  was  not  less  so,  allowed 
him  to  say  his  say.  Le  Xotre,  meanwhile,  did  not  stir. 


248  Memoirs  of 

At  last,  the  King  made  him  go,  Louvois  still  grum- 
bling, and  maintaining  his  assertion  with  audacity  and 
little  measure.  Le  Notre  measured  the  window,  and 
said  that  the  King  was  right  by  several  inches.  Lou- 
vois still  wished  to  argue,  but  the  King  silenced  him, 
and  commanded  him  to  see  that  the  window  was 
altered  at  once,  contrary  to  custom  abusing  him  most 
harshly. 

What  annoyed  Louvois  most  was,  that  this  scene 
passed  not  only  before  all  the  officers  of  the  buildings, 
but  in  presence  of  all  who  followed  the  King  in  his 
promenades,  nobles,  courtiers,  officers  of  the  guard, 
and  others,  even  all  the  rolete.  The  dressing  given  to 
Louvois  was  smart  and  long,  mixed  with  reflections 
upon  the  fault  of  this  window,  which,  not  noticed  so 
soon,  might  have  spoiled  all  the  fagade,  and  compelled 
it  to  be  re-built. 

Louvois,  who  was  not  accustomed  to  be  thus  treated, 
returned  home  in  fury,  and  like  a  man  in  despair.  His 
familiars  were  frightened,  and  in  their  disquietude 
angled  to  learn  what  had  happened.  At  last  he  told 
them,  said  he  was  lost,  and  that  for  a  few  inches  the 
King  forgot  all  his  services,  which  had  led  to  so  many 
conquests ;  he  declared  that  henceforth  he  would  leave 
the  trowel  to  the  King,  bring  about  a  war,  and  so  ar- 
range matters  that  the  King  should  have  good  need 
of  him ! 

He  soon  kept  his  word.  He  caused  a  war  to  grow 
out  of  the  affair  of  the  double  election  of  Cologne,  of 
the  Prince  of  Bavaria,  and  of  the  Cardinal  of  Fiirsten- 
berg ;  he  confirmed  it  in  carrying  the  flames  into  the 
Palatinate,  and  in  leaving,  as  I  have  said,  all  liberty 


Saint-Simon  249 

to  the  project  upon  England ;  he  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  his  work  by  forcing  the  Duke  of  Savoy  into 
the  arms  of  his  enemies,  and  making  him  become,  by 
the  position  of  his  country,  our  enemy,  the  most  diffi- 
cult and  the  most  ruinous.  All  that  I  have  here  re- 
lated was  clearly  brought  to  light  in  due  time. 

Boisseuil  died  shortly  after  D'Avaux.  He  was  a 
tall,  big  man,  warm  and  violent,  a  great  gambler,  bad 
tempered, — who  often  treated  M.  le  Grand  and  Ma- 
dame d'Armagnac,  great  people  as  they  were,  so  that 
the  company  were  ashamed, — and  who  swore  in  the 
saloon  of  Marly  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  tap-room.  He 
was  feared  ;  and  he  said  to  women  whatever  came 
uppermost  when  the  fury  of  a  cut-throat  seized  him. 
During  a  journey  the  King  and  Court  made  to  Xancy, 
Boisseuil  one  evening  sat  down  to  play  in  the  house 
of  one  of  the  courtiers.  A  player  happened  to  be  there 
who  played  very  high.  Boisseuil  lost  a  good  deal,  and 
was  very  angry.  He  thought  he  perceived  that  this 
gentleman,  who  was  only  permitted  on  account  of  his 
play,  was  cheating,  and  made  such  good  use  of  his 
eyes  that  he  soon  found  this  was  the  case,  and  all  on  a 
sudden  stretched  across  the  table  and  seized  the  gam- 
bler's hand,  which  he  held  upon  the  table,  with  the  cards 
he  was  going  to  deal.  The  gentleman,  very  much  as- 
tonished, wished  to  withdraw  his  hand,  and  was  angry. 
Boisseuil,  stronger  than  he,  said  that  he  was  a  rogue, 
and  that  the  company  should  see  it,  and  immediately 
shaking  his  hand  with  fury  put  in  evidence  his  deceit. 
The  player,  confounded,  rose  and  went  away.  The 
game  went  on,  and  lasted  long  into  the  night.  When 
finished,  Boisseuil  went  away.  As  he  was  leaving  the 


250  Memoirs  of 

door  he  found  a  man  stuck  against  the  wall — it  was 
the  player — who  called  him  to  account  for  the  insult 
he  had  received.  Boisseuil  replied  that  he  should  give 
him  no  satisfaction,  and  that  he  was  a  rogue. 

"  That  may  be,"  said  the  player,  "  but  I  don't  like  to 
be  told  so." 

They  went  away  directly  and  fought.  Boisseuil  re- 
ceived two  wounds,  from  one  of  which  he  wras  like  to 
die.  The  other  escaped  without  injury. 

I  have  said,  that  after  the  affair  of  M.  de  Cambrai, 
Madame  de  Maintenon  had  taken  a  rooted  dislike  to 
M.  de  Beauvillicrs.  She  had  become  reconciled  to 
him  in  appearance  during  the  time  that  Monseigneur 
de  Bourgogne  was  a  victim  to  the  calumnies  of  M.  de 
Vendome,  because  she  had  need  of  him.  Now  that 
Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne  was  brought  back  to 
favour,  and  M.  de  Vendome  was  disgraced,  her  an- 
tipathy for  M.  de  Beauvilliers  burst  out  anew,  and  she 
set  her  wits  to  work  to  get  rid  of  him  from  the  Council 
of  State,  of  which  he  was  a  member.  The  witch  wished 
to  introduce  her  favourite  Harcourt  there  in  his  place, 
and  worked  so  well  to  bring  about  this  result  that  the 
King  promised  he  should  be  received. 

His  word  given,  or  rather  snatched  from  him,  the 
King  was  embarrassed  as  to  how  to  keep  it,  for  he  did 
not  wish  openly  to  proclaim  Harcourt  minister.  It 
was  agreed,  therefore,  that  at  the  next  Council  Har- 
court should  be  present,  as  though  by  accident,  in  the 
King's  ante-chamber ;  that,  Spanish  matters  being 
brought  up,  the  King  should  propose  to  consult  Har- 
court, and  immediately  after  should  direct  search  to  be 
made  for  him,  to  see  if,  by  chance,  he  was  close  at 


Saint-Simon  251 

hand ;  that  upon  finding-  him,  he  should  be  conducted 
to  the  Council,  made  to  enter  and  seat  himself,  and 
ever  afterwards  be  regarded  as  a  Minister  of  State. 

This  arrangement  was  kept  extremely  secret,  ac- 
cording to  the  express  commands  of  the  King.  I 
knew  it,  however,  just  before  it  was  to  be  executed, 
and  I  saw  at  once  that  the  day  of  Harcourt's  entry  into 
the  Council  would  be  the  day  of  M.  de  Beauvilliers'  dis- 
grace. I  sent,  therefore,  at  once  for  M.  de  Beauvilliers, 
begging  him  to  come  to  my  house  immediately,  and 
that  I  would  then  tell  him  why  I  could  not  come  to 
him.  Without  great  precaution  everything  becomes 
known  at  Court. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  M.  de  Beauvilliers  arrived, 
tolerably  disturbed  at  my  message.  I  asked  him  if  he 
knew  anything,  and  I  turned  him  about,  less  to  pump 
him  than  to  make  him  ashamed  of  his  ignorance,  and 
to  persuade  him  the  better  afterwards  to  do  what  I 
wished.  When  I  had  well  trotted  out  his  ignorance,  I 
apprised  him  of  what  I  had  just  learnt.  He  was  as- 
tounded ;  he  so  little  expected  it !  I  had  not  much 
trouble  to  persuade  him  that,  although  his  expulsion 
might  not  yet  be  determined  on,  the  intrusion  of  Har- 
court  must  pave  the  way  for  it.  He  admitted  to  me 
that  for  some  days  he  had  found  the  King  cold  and 
embarrassed  with  him,  but  that  he  had  paid  little  at- 
tention to  the  circumstance,  the  reason  of  which  was 
now  clear.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  In  twenty- 
four  hours  all  would  be  over.  I  therefore  took  the 
liberty  in  the  first  instance  of  scolding  him  for  his 
profound  ignorance  of  what  passed  at  the  Court,  and 
was  bold  enough  to  say  to  him  that  he  had  only  to 


252  Memoirs  of 

thank  himself  for  the  situation  he  found  himself  in. 
He  let  me  say  to  the  end  without  growing  angry,  then 
smiled,  and  said,  "  Well !  what  do  you  think  I  ought 
to  do  ?  " 

That  was  just  what  I  wanted.  I  replied  that  there 
was  only  one  course  open  to  him,  and  that  was  to  have 
an  interview  with  the  King  early  the  next  morning ; 
to  say  to  him,  that  he  had  been  informed  Harcourt  was 
about  to  enter  the  Council ;  that  he  thought  the  affairs 
of  State  would  suffer  rather  than  otherwise  if  Harcourt 
did  so ;  and  finally,  to  allude  to  the  change  that  had 
taken  place  in  the  King's  manner  towards  him  lately, 
and  to  say,  with  all  respect,  affection,  and  submission, 
that  he  was  equally  ready  to  continue  serving  the  King 
or  to  give  up  his  appointments,  as  his  Majesty  might 
desire. 

M.  de  Beauvilliers  took  pleasure  in  listening  to  me. 
He  embraced  me  closely,  and  promised  to  follow  the 
course  I  had  marked  out. 

The  next  morning  I  went  straight  to  him,  and 
learned  that  he  had  perfectly  succeeded.  He  had 
spoken  exactly  as  I  had  suggested.  The  King  ap- 
peared astonished  and  piqued  that  the  secret  of  Har- 
court's  entry  into  the  Council  was  discovered.  He 
would  not  hear  a  word  as  to  resignation  of  office  on 
the  part  of  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  and  appeared  more  sat- 
isfied with  him  than  ever.  Whether,  without  this  in- 
terview, he  would  have  been  lost,  I  know  not,  but  by 
the  coldness  and  embarrassment  of  the  King  before 
that  interview,  and  during  the  first  part  of  it,  I  am 
nearly  persuaded  that  he  would.  M.  de  Beauvilliers 
embraced  me  again  very  tenderly — more  than  once. 


Saint-Simon  253 

As  for  Harcourt,  sure  of  his  good  fortune,  and 
scarcely  able  to  contain  his  joy,  he  arrived  at  the  meet- 
ing place.  Time  ran  on.  During  the  Council  there 
are  only  the  most  subaltern  people  in  the  ante-cham- 
bers and  a  few  courtiers  who  pass  that  way  to  go  from 
one  wing  to  another.  Each  of  these  subalterns  eagerly 
asked  M.  d'Harcourt  what  he  wanted,  if  he  wished  for. 
anything,  and  importuned  him  strongly.  He  was 
obliged  to  remain  there,  although  he  had  no  pretext. 
He  went  and  came,  limping  with  his  stick,  not  know- 
ing what  to  reply  to  the  passers-by,  or  the  attendants 
by  whom  he  was  remarked.  At  last,  after  waiting  long, 
he  returned  as  he  came,  much  disturbed  at  not  having 
been  called.  He  sent  word  so  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  who,  in  her  turn,  was  as  much  disturbed,  the 
King  not  having  said  a  word  to  her,  and  she  not  hav- 
ing dared  to  say  a  word  to  him.  She  consoled  Har- 
court, hoping  that  at  the  next  Council  he  would  be 
called.  At  her  wish  he  waited  again,  as  before,  during 
another  Council,  but  with  as  little  success.  He  was 
very  much  annoyed,  comprehending  that  the  affair  had 
fallen  through. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  did  not,  however,  like  to  be 
defeated  in  this  way.  After  waiting  some  time  she 
spoke  to  the  King,  reminding  him  what  he  had  prom- 
ised to  do.  The  King  replied  in  confusion  that  he 
had  thought  better  of  it ;  that  Harcourt  was  on  bad 
terms  with  all  the  Ministers,  and  might,  if  admitted 
to  the  Council,  cause  them  much  embarrassment ;  he 
preferred,  therefore,  things  to  remain  as  they  were. 
This  was  said  in  a  manner  that  admitted  of  no  reply. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  felt  herself  beaten  ;  Harcourt 


254  Memoirs  of 

was  in  despair.  M.  de  Beanvilliers  was  quite  re-estab- 
lished in  the  favour  of  the  King.  I  pretended  to  have 
known  nothing  of  this  affair,  and  innocently  asked 
many  questions  about  it  when  all  was  over.  I  was 
happy  to  the  last  degree  that  everything  had  turned 
out  so  well. 

M.  le  Prince,  who  for  more  than  two  years  had  not 
appeared  at  the  Court,  died  at  Paris  a  little  after  mid- 
night on  the  night  between  Easter  Sunday  and  Mon- 
day, the  last  of  March  and  first  of  April,  and  in  his 
seventy-sixth  year.  No  man  had  ever  more  ability  of 
all  kinds, — extending  even  to  the  arts  and  mechanics, 
— more  valour,  and,  when  it  pleased  him,  more  dis- 
cernment, grace,  politeness,  and  nobility.  But  then 
no  man  had  ever  before  so  many  useless  talents,  so 
much  genius  of  no  avail,  or  an  imagination  so  calcu- 
lated to  be  a  bugbear  to  itself  and  a  plague  to  others. 
Abjectly  and  vilely  servile  even  to  lackeys,  he  scrupled 
not  to  use  the  lowest  and  paltriest  means  to  gain  his 
ends.  Unnatural  son,  cruel  father,  terrible  husband, 
detestable  master,  pernicious  neighbour ;  without 
friendship,  without  friends — incapable  of  having  any — 
jealous,  suspicious,  ever  restless,  full  of  slyness  and 
artifices  to  discover  and  to  scrutinise  all,  (in  which  he 
was  unceasingly  occupied,  aided  by  an  extreme  vivac- 
ity and  a  surprising  penetration.)  choleric  and  head- 
strong to  excess  even  for  trifles.,  difficult  of  access, 
never  in  accord  with  himself,  and  keeping  all  around 
him  in  a  tremble ;  to  conclude,  impetuosity  and  avarice 
were  his  masters,  which  monopolised  him  always. 
With  all  this  he  was  a  man  difficult  to  be  proof  against 
when  he  put  in  play  the  pleasing  qualities  he  pos- 
sessed. 


Saint-Simon  255 

Madame  la  Princessc,  his  wife,  was  his  continual 
victim.  She  was  disgustingly  ugly,  virtuous,  and  fool- 
ish, a  little  humpbacked,  and  stunk  like  a  skunk,  even 
from  a  distance.  All  these  things  did  not  hinder  M.  le 
Prince  from  being  jealous  of  her  even  to  fury  up  to  the 
very  last.  The  piety,  the  indefatigable  attention  of 
Madame  la  Princesse,  her  sweetness,  her  novice-like 
submission,  could  not  guarantee  her  from  frequent  in- 
juries, or  from  kicks,  and  blows  with  the  fist,  which 
were  not  rare.  She  was  not  mistress  even  of  the  most 
trifling  things  ;  she  did  not  dare  to  propose  or  ask  any- 
thing. He  made  her  set  out  from  one  place  to  another 
the  moment  the  fancy  took  him.  Often  when  seated 
in  their  coach  he  made  her  descend,  or  return  from  the 
end  of  the  street,  then  re-commence  the  journey  after 
dinner,  or  the  next  day.  This  see-sawing  lasted  once 
fifteen  days  running,  before  a  trip  to  Fontainebleau. 
At  other  times  he  sent  for  her  from  church,  made  her 
quit  high  mass,  and  sometimes  sent  for  her  the  moment 
she  was  going  to  receive  the  sacrament ;  she  was 
obliged  to  return  at  once  and  put  off  her  communion 
to  another  occasion.  It  was  not  that  he  wanted  her, 
but  it  was  merely  to  gratify  his  whim  that  he  thus 
troubled  her. 

He  was  always  of  uncertain  habits,  and  had  four 
dinners  ready  for  him  every  day  ;  one  at  Paris,  one  at 
Ecouen,  one  at  Chantilly,  and  one  where  the  Court 
was.  But  the  expense  of  this  arrangement  was  not 
great ;  he  dined  on  soup,  and  the  half  of  a  fowl  roasted 
upon  a  crust  of  bread  ;  the  other  half  serving  for  the 
next  day.  He  rarely  invited  anybody  to  dinner,  but 
when  he  did,  no  man  could  be  more  polite  or  attentive 
to  his  guests. 


256  Memoirs  of 

Formerly  he  had  been  in  love  with  several  ladies  of 
the  Court ;  then,  nothing  cost  too  much.  He  was 
grace,  magnificence,  gallantry  in  person — a  Jupiter 
transformed  into  a  shower  of  gold.  Now  he  disguised 
himself  as  a  lackey,  another  time  as  a  female  broker 
in  articles  for  the  toilette ;  and  now  in  another  fashion. 
He  was  the  most  ingenious  man  in  the  world.  He 
once  gave  a  grand  fete  solely  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
tarding the  journey  into  Italy  of  a  lady  with  whom  he 
was  enamoured,  with  whom  he  was  on  good  terms, 
and  whose  husband  he  amused  by  making  verses.  He 
hired  all  the  houses  on  one  side  of  a  street  near  Saint 
Sulpice,  furnished  them,  and  pierced  the  connecting 
walls,  in  order  to  be  able  thus  to  reach  the  place  of 
rendezvous  without  being  suspected. 

Jealous  and  cruel  to  his  mistresses,  he  had,  amongst 
others,  the  Marquise  de  Richelieu ;  whom  I  name,  be- 
cause she  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  being  silent  upon. 
He  was  hopelessly  smitten  and  spent  millions  upon  her 
and  to  learn  her  movements.  He  knew  that  the  Comte 
de  Roucy  shared  her  favours  (it  was  for  her  that  sa- 
gacious Count  proposed  to  put  straw  before  the  house 
in  order  to  guarantee  her  against  the  sound  of  the 
church  bells,  of  which  she  complained).  M.  le  Prince 
reproached  her  for  favouring  the  Count.  She  de- 
fended herself ;  but  he  watched  her  so  closely,  that  he 
brought  home  the  offence  to  her  without  her  being 
able  to  deny  it.  The  fear  of  losing  a  lover  so  rich  as 
was  M.  le  Prince  furnished  her  on  the  spot  with  an 
excellent  suggestion  for  putting  him  at  ease.  She 
proposed  to  make  an  appointment  at  her  own  house 
with  the  Comte  de  Roucy,  M.  le  Prince's  people  to  lie 


Saint-Simon  257 

in  wait,  and  when  the  Count  appeared,  to  make  away 
with  him.  Instead  of  the  success  she  expected  from  a 
proposition  so  humane  and  ingenious,  M.  le  Prince 
was  so  horror-struck,  that  he  warned  the  Comte  cle 
Roucy,  and  never  saw  the  Marquise  de  Richelieu  again 
all  his  life. 

The  most  surprising  thing  was,  that  with  so  much 
ability,  penetration,  activity,  and  valour,  as  had  M.  le 
Prince,  with  the  desire  to  be  as  great  a  warrior  as  the 
Great  Conde,  his  father,  he  could  never  succeed  in 
understanding  even  the  first  elements  of  the  military 
art.  Instructed  as  he  was  by  his  father,  he  never  ac- 
quired the  least  aptitude  in  war.  It  was  a  profession 
he  was  not  born  for,  and  for  which  he  could  not  qualify 
himself  by  study. 

During  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years  of  his  life,  he 
was  accused  of  something  more  than  fierceness  and 
ferocity.  "Wanderings  were  noticed  in  his  conduct, 
which  were  not  exhibited  in  his  own  house  alone. 
Entering  one  morning  into  the  apartment  of  the  Mare- 
chale  de  Xoailles  (she  herself  has  related  this  to  me) 
as  her  bed  was  being  made,  and  there  being  only  the 
counterpane  to  put  on,  he  stopped  short  at  the  door, 
crying  with  transport,  "  Oh,  the  nice  bed,  the  nice 
bed !  "  took  a  spring,  leaped  upon  the  bed,  rolled  him- 
self upon  it  seven  or  eight  times,  then  descended  and 
made  his  excuses  to  the  Marechale,  saying  that  her 
bed  was  so  clean  and  so  well-made,  that  he  could  not 
hinder  himself  from  jumping  upon  it :  and  this,  al- 
though there  had  never  been  anything  between  them  ; 
and  when  the  Marechale,  who  all  her  life  had  been 
above  suspicion,  was  at  an  age  at  which  she  could  not 
VOL.  II. — 17 


258  Memoirs  of 

give  birth  to  any.  Her  servants  remained  stupefied, 
and  she  as  much  as  they.  She  got  out  of  the  difficulty 
by  laughing  and  treating  it  as  a  joke.  It  was  whis- 
pered that  there  were  times  when  M.  le  Prince  believed 
himself  a  dog,  or  some  other  beast,  whose  manners  he 
imitated ;  and  I  have  known  people  very  worthy  of 
faith  who  have  assured  me  they  have  seen  him  at  the 
going  to  bed  of  the  King  suddenly  throw  his  head  into 
the  air  several  times  running,  and  open  his  mouth  quite 
wide,  like  a  dog  while  barking,  yet  without  making  a 
noise.  It  is  certain,  that  for  a  long  time  nobody  saw 
him  except  a  single  valet,  who  had  control  over  him, 
and  who  did  not  annoy  him. 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  attended  in  a  ridicu- 
lously minute  manner  to  his  diet  and  its  results,  and 
entered  into  discussions  which  drove  his  doctors  to 
despair.  Fever  and  gout  at  last  attacked  him,  and  he 
augmented  them  by  the  course  he  pursued.  Finot, 
our  physician  and  his,  at  times  knew  not  what  to  do 
with  him.  What  embarrassed  Finot  most,  as  he  re- 
lated to  us  more  than  once_,  was  that  M.  le  Prince 
would  eat  nothing,  for  the  simple  reason,  as  he  alleged, 
that  he  was  dead,  and  that  dead  men  did  not  eat !  It 
was  necessary,  however,  that  he  should  take  some- 
thing, or  he  would  have  really  died.  Finot,  and 
another  doctor  who  attended  him,  determined  to  agree 
with  him  that  he  was  dead,  but  to  maintain  that  dead 
men  sometimes  eat.  They  offered  to  produce  dead 
men  of  this  kind;  and,  in  point  of  fact,  led  to  M.  le 
Prince  some  persons  unknown  to  him,  who  pretended 
to  be  dead,  but  who  ate  nevertheless.  This  trick  suc- 
ceeded, but  he  would  never  eat  except  with  these  men, 


Saint-Simon  259 

and  Finot.  On  that  condition  he  ate  well,  and  this  jeal- 
ousy lasted  a  long  time,  and  drove  Finot  to  despair  by 
its  duration ;  who,  nevertheless,  sometimes  nearly  died 
of  laughter  in  relating  to  us  what  passed  at  these  re- 
pasts, and  the  conversation  from  the  other  world  heard 
there. 

M.  le  Prince's  malady  augmenting,  Madame  la  Prin- 
cesse  grew  bold  enough  to  ask  him  if  he  did  not  wish 
to  think  of  his  conscience,  and  to  see  a  confessor. 
He  amused  himself  tolerably  long  in  refusing  to  do 
so.  Some  months  before  he  had  seen  in  secret  Pere 
de  la  Tour.  He  had  sent  to  the  reverend  father  asking 
him  to  come  by  night  and  disguised.  Pere  de  la  Tour, 
surprised  to  the  last  degree  at  so  wild  a  proposition, 
replied  that  the  respect  he  owed  to  the  cloth  would 
prevent  him  visiting  M.  le  Prince  in  disguise ;  but  that 
he  would  come  in  his  ordinary  attire.  AI.  le  Prince 
agreed  to  this  last  imposed  condition.  He  made  the 
Pere  de  la  Tour  enter  at  night  by  a  little  back  door, 
at  which  an  attendant  was  in  waiting  to  receive  him. 
He  was  led  by  this  attendant,  who  had  a  lantern  in  one 
hand  and  a  key  in  the  other,  through  many  long  and 
obscure  passages,  and  through  many  doors,  which 
were  opened  and  closed  upon  him  as  he  passed.  Hav- 
ing arrived  at  last  at  the  sick-chamber,  he  confessed 
M.  le  Prince,  and  was  conducted  out  of  the  house  in 
the  same  manner  and  by  the  same  way  as  before. 
These  visits  were  repeated  during  several  months. 

The  Prince's  malady  rapidly  increased  and  became 
extreme.  The  doctors  found  him  so  ill  on  the  night 
of  Easter  Sunday  that  they  proposed  to  him  the  sacra- 
ment for  the  next  day.  He  disputed  with  them,  and 


260 


Saint-Simon 


said  that  if  he  was  so  very  bad  it  would  be  better  to 
take  the  sacraments  at  once,  and  have  done  with  them. 
They  in  their  turn  opposed  this,  saying  there  was  no 
need  of  so  much  hurry.  At  last,  for  fear  of  incensing 
him,  they  consented,  and  he  received  all  hurriedly  the 
last  sacraments.  A  little  while  after  he  called  M.  le 
Due  to  him,  and  spoke  of  the  honours  he  wished  at  his 
funeral,  mentioning  those  which  had  been  omitted  at 
the  funeral  of  his  father,  but  which  he  did  not  wish  to 
be  omitted  from  his.  He  talked  of  nothing  but  this 
and  of  the  sums  he  had  spent  at  Chantilly,  until  his 
reason  began  to  wander. 

Not  a  soul  regretted  him ;  neither  servants  nor 
friends,  neither  child  nor  wife.  Indeed  the  Princess 
was  so  ashamed  of  her  tears  that  she  made  excuses  for 
them.  This  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Progress  of  the  War — Simplicity  of  Chamillart — The  Im- 
perialists and  the  Pope — Spanish  Affairs — Due  d'Orleans 
and  Madame  des  Ursins — Arrest  of  Flotte  in  Spain — Dis- 
covery of  the  Intrigues  of  the  Due  d'Orleans — Cabal  against 
Him — His  Disgrace  and  Its  Consequences. 

IT  is  time  now  that  I  should  speak  of  our  military 
operations  this  year  and  of  the  progress  of  the  war. 
Let  me  commence  by  stating  the  disposition  of  our 
armies  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign. 

Marechal  Boufflers,  having  become  dangerously  ill, 
was  unable  to  take  command  in  Flanders.  Marechal 
de  Villars  was  accordingly  appointed  in  his  stead  un- 
der Monseigneur,  and  with  him  served  the  King  of 
England,  under  his  incognito  of  the  previous  year,  and 
M.  le  Due  de  Berry,  as  volunteers.  The  Marechal 
d'Harcourt  was  appointed  to  command  upon  the  Rhine 
under  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  M.  d'Or- 
leans commanded  in  Spain;  Marechal  Berwick  in 
Dauphiny;  and  the  Due  de  Noailles  in  Roussillon,  as 
usual.  The  generals  went  to  their  destinations,  but  the 
Princes  remained  at  the  Court. 

Before  I  relate  what  we  did  in  war,  let  me  here  state 
the  strange  opposition  of  our  ministers  in  their  at- 
tempts to  bring  about  peace.  Since  Yillars  had  intro- 

261 


262  Memoirs  of 

duced  Chamillart  to  Court,  he  had  heard  it  said  that 
M.  de  Louvois  did  everybody's  business  as  much  as  he 
could;  and  took  it  into  his  head  that  having  succeeded 
to  M.  de  Louvois  he  ought  to  act  exactly  like  him.  For 
some  time  past,  accordingly,  Chamillart,  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  King,  had  sent  people  to  Holland  and 
elsewhere  to  negotiate  for  peace,  although  he  had  no 
right  to  do  so,  Torcy  being  the  minister  to  whose  de- 
partment this  business  belonged.  Torcy  likewise  sent 
people  to  Holland  and  elsewhere  with  a  similar  object, 
and  these  ambassadors  of  the  two  ministers,  instead  of 
working  in  common,  did  all  in  their  power  to  thwart 
each  other.  They  succeeded  so  well  that  it  was  said 
they  seemed  in  foreign  countries  ministers  of  different 
powers,  whose  interests  were  quite  opposed.  This 
manner  of  conducting  business  gave  a  most  injurious 
idea  of  our  government,  and  tended  very  much  to  bring 
it  into  ridicule.  Those  who  sincerely  wished  to  treat 
with  us,  found  themselves  so  embarrassed  between  the 
rival  factions,  that  they  did  not  know  what  to  do;  and 
others  made  our  disagreements  a  plausible  pretext  for 
not  listening  to  our  propositions. 

At  last  Torcy  was  so  annoyed  with  the  interference 
of  Chamillart,  that  he  called  the  latter  to  account  for 
it,  and  made  him  sign  an  agreement  by  which  he  bound 
himself  to  enter  into  no  negotiations  for  peace  and  to 
mix  himself  in  no  foreign  affairs;  and  so  this  absurdity 
came  to  an  end. 

In  Italy,  early  this  year,  we  received  a  check  of  no 
small  importance.  I  have  mentioned  that  we  were  in- 
vited to  join  in  an  Italian  league,  having  for  its  object 
to  oppose  the  Emperor.  We  joined  this  league,  but 


Saint-Simon  263 

not  before  its  existence  had  been  noised  abroad,  and 
put  the  allies  on  their  guard  as  to  the  danger  they  ran 
of  losing  Italy.  Therefore  the  Imperialists  entered  the 
Papal  States,  laid  them  under  contribution,  ravaged 
them,  lived  there  in  true  Tartar  style,  and  snapped  their 
fingers  at  the  Pope,  who  cried  aloud  as  he  could  obtain 
no  redress  and  no  assistance.  Pushed  at  last  to  ex- 
tremity by  the  military  occupation  which  desolated  his 
States,  he  yielded  to  all  the  wishes  of  the  Emperor,  and 
recognised  the  Archduke  as  King  of  Spain.  Philip  Y. 
immediately  ceased  all  intercourse  with  Rome,  and  dis- 
missed the  nuncio  from  Madrid.  The  Imperialists, 
even  after  the  Pope  had  ceded  to  their  wishes,  treated 
him  with  the  utmost  disdain,  and  continued  to  ravage 
his  territories.  The  Imperialist  minister  at  Rome,  act- 
ually gave  a  comedy  and  a  ball  in  his  palace  there,  con- 
trary to  the  express  orders  of  the  Pope,  who  had  for- 
bidden all  kinds  of  amusement  in  this  period  of 
calamity.  \Yhen  remonstrated  with  by  the  Pope,  this 
minister  said  that  he  had  promised  a  fete  to  the  ladies, 
and  could  not  break  his  word.  The  strangest  thing  is, 
that  after  this  public  instance  of  contempt  the  nephews 
of  the  Pope  went  to  the  fete,  and  the  Pope  had  the 
weakness  to  suffer  it. 

In  Spain,  everything  went  wrong,  and  people  began 
to  think  it  would  be  best  to  give  up  that  country  to  the 
house  of  Austria,  under  the  hope  that  by  this  means 
the  war  would  be  terminated.  It  was  therefore  se- 
riously resolved  to  recall  all  our  troops  from  Spain,  and 
to  give  orders  to  Madame  des  Ursins  to  quit  the  coun- 
try. Instructions  were  accordingly  sent  to  this  effect. 
The  King  and  Queen  of  Spain,  in  the  greatest  alarm  at 


264  Memoirs  of 

such  a  violent  determination,  cried  aloud  against  it,  and 
begged  that  the  execution  of  it  might  at  least  be  sus- 
pended for  a  while. 

At  this,  our  King  paused  and  called  a  Council  to 
discuss  the  subject.  It  was  ultimately  agreed  to  leave 
sixty-six  battalions  of  our  troops  to  the  King  of  Spain, 
but  to  withdraw  all  the  rest.  This  compromise  satisfied 
nobody.  Those  who  wished  to  support  Spain  said  this 
assistance  was  not  enough.  The  other  party  said  it 
was  too  much. 

This  determination  being  arrived  at,  it  seemed  as 
though  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  send  M.  d'Or- 
leans  to  Spain  to  take  command  there.  But  now  will 
be  seen  the  effect  of  that  mischievous  pleasantry  of  his 
upon  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  Madame  des  Ursins, 
the  "  she-captain,"  and  the  "  she-lieutenant  " — as  he 
called  them,  in  the  gross  language  to  which  I  have  be- 
fore alluded.  Those  two  ladies  had  not  forgiven  him 
his  witticism,  and  had  determined  to  accomplish  his 
disgrace.  His  own  thoughtless  conduct  assisted  them 
in  bringing  about  this  result. 

The  King  one  day  asked  him  if  he  had  much  desire 
to  return  into  Spain.  He  replied  in  a  manner  evidenc- 
ing his  willingness  to  serve,  marking  no  eagerness. 
He  did  not  notice  that  there  might  be  a  secret  meaning 
hidden  under  this  question.  When  he  related  to  me 
what  had  passed  between  him  and  the  King,  I  blamed 
the  feebleness  of  his  reply,  and  represented  to  him  the 
ill  effect  it  would  create  if  at  such  a  time  he  evinced 
any  desire  to  keep  out  of  the  campaign.  He  appeared 
convinced  by  my  arguments,  and  to  wish  with  more 
eagerness  than  before  to  return  to  Spain. 


Saint-Simon  265 

A  few  days  after,  the  King  asked  him,  on  what  terms 
he  believed  himself  with  the  Princesse  des  Ursins;  and 
when  M.  d'Orleans  replied  that  he  believed  himself  to 
'be  on  good  terms  with  her,  as  he  had  done  all  in  his 
power  to  be  so,  the  King  said  that  he  feared  it  was 
not  thus,  since  she  had  asked  that  he  should  not  be 
again  sent  to  Spain,  saying  that  he  had  leagued  him- 
self with  all  her  enemies  there,  and  that  a  secretary  of 
his,  named  Renaut,  whom  he  had  left  behind  him,  kept 
up  such  strict  and  secret  intercourse  with  those  enemies, 
that  she  was  obliged  to  demand  his  recall  lest  he  might 
do  wrong  to  the  name  of  his  master. 

Upon  this,  M.  d'Orleans  replied  that  he  was  infi- 
nitely surprised  at  these  complaints  of  JMadame  des  Ur- 
sins, since  he  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  them.  The 
King,  after  reflecting  for  a  moment,  said  he  thought, 
all  things  considered,  that  M.  d'Orleans  had  better  not 
return  to  Spain.  In  a  few  days  it  was  publicly  known 
that  he  would  not  go.  The  withdrawal  of  so  many  of 
our  troops  from  Spain  was  the  reason  alleged.  At  the 
same*  time  the  King  gave  orders  to  M.  d'Orleans  to  send 
for  his  equipages  from  Spain,  and  added  in  his  ear, 
that  he  had  better  send  some  one  of  sense  for  them, 
who  might  be  the  bearer  of  a  protest,  if  Philip  V.  quit- 
ted his  throne.  At  least  this  is  what  M.  d'Orleans  told 
me,  although  few  people  believed  him  in  the  end. 

M.  d'Orleans  chose  for  this  errand  a  man  named 
Flotte,  very  skilful  in  intrigue,  in  which  he  had,  so  to 
speak,  been  always  brought  up.  He  went  straight  to 
Madrid,  and  one  of  his  first  employments  when  he  ar- 
rived there  was  to  look  for  Renaut,  the  secretary  just 
alluded  to.  But  Renaut  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  nor 


266  Memoirs  of 

could  any  news  be  heard  of  him.  Flotte  stayed  some 
time  in  Madrid,  and  then  went  to  the  army,  which  was 
still  in  quarters.  He  remained  there  three  weeks,  idling 
from  quarter  to  quarter,  saluting  the  Marechal  in  com- 
mand, who  was  much  surprised  at  his  long  stay,  and 
who  pressed  him  to  return  into  France.  At  last  Flotte 
took  leave  of  the  Marechal,  asking  him  for  an  escort 
for  himself  and  a  commissary,  with  whom  he  meant 
to  go  in  company  across  the  Pyrenees.  Twenty  dra- 
goons were  given  him  as  escort,  and  he  and  the  com- 
missary set  out  in  a  chaise. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  Flotte  perceived 
that  they  were  followed  by  other  troops  besides  those 
guarding  them.  Flotte  fearing  that  something  was 
meant  by  this,  slipped  a  pocket-book  into  the  hands 
of  the  commissary,  requesting  him  to  take  care  of  it. 
Shortly  afterwards  the  chaise  was  surrounded  by  troops, 
and  stopped;  the  two  travellers  were  made  to  alight. 
The  commissary  was  ordered  to  give  up  the  pocket- 
book,  an  order  that  he  complied  with  very  rapidly,  and 
Flotte  was  made  prisoner,  and  escorted  back  to  the 
spot  he  had  just  left. 

The  news  of  this  occurrence  reached  the  King  on 
the  1 2th  of  July,  by  the  ordinary  courier  from  Madrid. 
The  King  informed  M.  d'Orleans  of  it,  who,  having 
learnt  it  by  a  private  courier  six  days  before,  affected 
nevertheless  surprise,  and  said  it  was  strange  that  one 
of  his  people  should  have  been  thus  arrested,  and  that 
as  his  Majesty  was  concerned,  it  was  for  him  to  demand 
the  reason.  The  King  replied,  that  in  fact  the  injury 
regarded  him  more  than  M.  d'Orleans,  and  that  he 
would  give  orders  to  Torcy  to  write  as  was  necessary 
to  Spain. 


Saint-Simon  267 

It  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  such  an  explosion 
made  a  great  noise,  both  in  France  and  Spain;  but  the 
noise  it  made  at  first  was  nothing  to  that  which  fol- 
lowed. A  cabal  was  formed  against  Monsieur  le  Due 
d'Orleans.  It  was  said  that  he  had  plotted  to  place 
himself  upon  the  Spanish  throne,  by  driving  out  Philip 
V.,  under  pretext  of  his  incapacity,  of  the  domination 
of  Madame  des  Ursins,  and  of  the  abandonment  of  the 
country  by  France;  that  he  had  treated  with  Stanhope, 
commander  of  the  English  troops  in  Spain,  and  with 
whom  he  was  known  to  be  on  friendly  terms,  in  order 
to  be  protected  by  the  Archduke.  This  was  the  report 
most  widely  spread.  Others  went  further.  In  these 
M.  d'Orleans  was  accused  of  nothing  less  than  of  in- 
tending to  divorce  himself  from  Madame  la  Duchesse 
d'Orleans,  as  having  been  married  to  her  by  force;  of 
intending  to  marry  the  sister  of  the  Empress  (widow  of 
Charles  II.),  and  of  mounting  with  her  upon  the  Span- 
ish throne;  to  marry  Madame  d'Argenton,  as  the  Queen 
Dowager  was  sure  to  have  no  children,  and  finally,  to 
poison  Madame  d'Orleans. 

Meanwhile  the  reply  from  Spain  came  not.  The  King 
and  Monseigneur  treated  M.  d'Orleans  with  a  coldness 
which  made  him  sorely  ill  at  ease:  the  majority  of  the 
courtiers,  following  this  example,  withdrew  from  him. 
He  was  left  almost  alone. 

I  learnt  at  last  from  M.  d'Orleans  how  far  he  was 
deserving  of  public  censure,  and  what  had  given  col- 
ouring to  the  reports  spread  against  him.  He  admitted 
to  me,  that  several  of  the  Spanish  grandees  had  per- 
suaded him  that  it  was  not  possible  the  King  of  Spain 
could  stand,  and  had  proposed  to  him  to  hasten  his 


268  Memoirs  of 

fall,  and  take  his  place ;  that  he  had  rejected  this  prop- 
osition with  indignation,  but  had  been  induced  to 
promise,  that  if  Philip  V.  fell  of  himself,  without  hope 
of  rising,  he  would  not  object  to  mounting  the  vacant 
throne,  believing  that  by  so  doing  he  would  be  doing 
good  to  our  King,  by  preserving  Spain  to  his  house. 

As  soon  as  I  heard  this,  I  advised  him  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it  to  the  King,  and  to  ask  his  pardon 
for  having  acted  in  this  matter  without  his  orders  and 
without  his  knowledge.  He  thought  my  advice  good, 
and  acted  upon  it.  But  the  King  was  too  much  under 
the  influence  of  the  enemies  of  M.  d'Orleans,  to  listen 
favourably  to  what  was  said  to  him.  The  facts  of  the 
case,  too,  were  much  against  M.  d'Orleans.  Both 
Renaut  and  Flotte  had  been  entrusted  with  his  secret. 
The  former  had  openly  leagued  himself  with  the  ene- 
mies of  Madame  des  Ursins,  and  acted  with  the  utmost 
imprudence.  He  had  been  privately  arrested  just  be- 
fore the  arrival  of  Flotte.  When  this  latter  was  ar- 
rested, papers  were  found  upon  him  which  brought 
everything  to  light.  The  views  of  M.  d'Orleans  and  of 
those  who  supported  him  were  clearly  shown.  The 
King  would  not  listen  to  anything  in  favour  of  his 
nephew. 

The  whole  Court  cried  out  against  M.  d'Orleans ; 
never  was  such  an  uproar  heard.  He  was  accused  of 
plotting  to  overthrow  the  King  of  Spain,  he,  a  Prince 
of  the  blood,  and  so  closely  allied  to  the  two  crowns ! 
Monseigneur,  usually  so  plunged  in  apathy,  roused 
himself  to  fury  against  M.  d'Orleans,  and  insisted  upon 
nothing  less  than  a  criminal  prosecution.  He  insisted  so 
strongly  upon  this,  that  the  King  at  last  consented  that 


Saint-Simon  269 

it  should  take  place,  and  gave  orders  to  the  chancellor 
to  examine  the  forms  requisite  in  such  a  case.  While 
the  chancellor  was  about  this  work,  I  went  to  see  him 
one  day,  and  represented  to  him  so  strongly,  that  M. 
d'Orleans'  misdemeanour  did  not  concern  France  at 
all,  and  could  only  be  judged  before  a  Spanish  tribunal, 
that  the  idea  of  a  criminal  trial  was  altogether  aban- 
doned almost  immediately  after.  M.  d'Orleans  was 
allowed  to  remain  in  peace. 

Madame  des  Ursins  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  had 
so  far  triumphed,  however,  that  M.  d'Orleans  found 
himself  plunged  in  the  deepest  disgrace.  He  was  uni- 
versally shunned.  Whenever  he  appeared,  people  flew 
away,  so  that  they  might  not  be  seen  in  communication 
with  him.  His  solitude  was  so  great,  that  for  a  whole 
month  only  one  friend  entered  his  house.  In  the  midst 
of  this  desertion,  he  had  no  resource  but  debauchery, 
and  the  society  of  his  mistress,  Madame  d'Argenton. 
The  disorder  and  scandal  of  his  life  had  for  a  long  time 
offended  the  King,  the  Court,  and  the  public.  They 
now  unhappily  confirmed  everybody  in  the  bad  opinion 
they  had  formed  of  him.  That  the  long  disgrace  he 
suffered  continued  to  confirm  him  in  his  bad  habits, 
and  that  it  explains  to  some  extent  his  after-conduct, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  But  I  must  leave  him  now, 
and  return  to  other  matters. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Danger  of  Chamillart — Witticism  of  D'Harcourt — Faults  of 
Chamillart — Court  Intrigues  against  Him — Behaviour  of 
the  Courtiers — Influence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon — Digni- 
fied Fall  of  Chamillart — He  is  Succeeded  by  Voysin — First 
Experience  of  the  New  Minister  —  The  Campaign  in 
Flanders — Battle  of  Malplaquet. 

BUT,  meanwhile,  a  great  change  had  taken  place 
at  Court.  Chamillart  had  committed  the  mis- 
take of  allowing  the  advancement  of  D'Harcourt  to 
the  head  of  an  army.  The  poor  man  did  not  see  the 
danger ;  and  when  warned  of  it,  thought  his  cleverness 
would  preserve  him.  Reports  of  his  fall  had  already 
begun  to  circulate,  and  D'Antin  had  been  spoken  of  in 
his  place.  I  warned  his  daughter  Dreux,  the  only  one 
of  the  family  to  whom  it  was  possible  to  speak  with 
profit.  The  mother,  with  little  wit  and  knowledge  of 
the  Court,  full  of  apparent  confidence  and  sham  cun- 
ning, received  all  advice  ill.  The  brothers  were  imbe- 
cile, the  son  was  a  child  and  a  simpleton,  the  two 
other  daughters  too  light-headed.  I  had  often  warned 
Madame  de  Dreux  of  the  enmity  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne ;  and  she  had  spoken  to  her  on  the  subject. 
The  Princess  had  answered  very  coldly  that  she  was 
mistaken,  that  she  had  no  such  enmity.  At  last  I  suc- 

270 


Saint-Simon  271 

ceeded,  in  this  indirect  way,  in  forcing  Chamillart  to 
speak  to  the  King  on  the  reports  that  were  abroad ; 
but  he  did  so  in  a  half-and-half  way,  and  committed 
the  capital  mistake  of  not  naming  the  successor 
which  public  rumour  mentioned.  The  King  appeared 
touched,  and  gave  him  all  sorts  of  assurances  of  friend- 
ship, and  made  as  if  he  liked  him  better  than  ever.  I 
do  not  know  if  Chamillart  was  then  near  his  destruc- 
tion, and  whether  this  conversation  set  him  up  again ; 
but  from  the  day  it  took  place  all  reports  died  away, 
and  the  Court  thought  him  perfectly  re-established. 

But  his  enemies  continued  to  work  against  him. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  abated  not  a  jot  in  their  enmity.  The  Marechal 
d'Harcourt  lost  no  opportunity  of  pulling  him  to 
pieces.  One  day,  among  others,  he  was  declaiming 
violently  against  him  at  Madame  de  Maintenon's, 
whom  he  knew  he  should  thus  please.  She  asked  him 
whom  he  would  put  in  his  place.  "  M.  Fagon,  Ma- 
dame," he  replied  coldly.  She  laughed,  but  said  this 
was  not  a  thing  to  joke  about ;  but  he  maintained  seri- 
ously that  the  old  doctor  would  make  a  much  better 
minister  than  Chamillart,  for  he  had  some  intelligence, 
which  would  make  up  for  his  ignorance  of  many  mat- 
ters ;  but  what  could  be  expected  of  a  man  who  was 
ignorant  and  stupid  too?  The  cunning  Norman  knew 
well  the  effect  this  strange  parallel  would  have ;  and  it 
is  indeed  inconceivable  how  damaging  his  sarcasm 
proved.  A  short  time  afterwards,  D'Antin,  wishing 
also  to  please,  but  more  imprudent,  insulted  the  son 
of  Chamillart  so  grossly,  and  abused  the  father  so  pub- 
licly, that  he  was  obliged  afterwards  to  excuse  him- 
self. 


272  Memoirs  of 

The  King  held,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  real 
council  of  war.  He  told  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  of  it, 
saying  rather  sharply :  "  Come,  unless  you  prefer  go- 
ing to  vespers."  The  council  lasted  nearly  three  hours, 
and  was  stormy.  The  Marechals  were  freer  in  their 
language  than  usual,  and  complained  of  the  ministers. 
All  fell  upon  Chamillart,  who  was  accused,  among 
other  things,  of  matters  that  concerned  Desmarets,  on 
whom  he  finished  by  turning  off  the  King's  anger. 
Chamillart  defended  himself  with  so  much  anger  that 
his  voice  was  heard  by  people  outside. 

But  he  had  of  late  heaped  fault  on  fault.  Besides 
setting  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  against  him,  he  rather  wantonly  irritated 
Monseigneur,  at  that  time  more  than  ever  under  the 
government  of  Mademoiselle  Choin.  The  latter  had 
asked  him  a  favour,  and  had  been  refused  even  with 
contempt.  Various  advances  at  reconciliation  she 
made  were  also  repulsed  with  contumely.  Yet  every 
one,  even  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  crawled  before 
this  creature — the  favourite  of  the  heir  to  the  throne. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  actually  caused  the  King  to 
offer  her  apartments  at  Versailles,  which  she  refused, 
for  fear  of  losing  the  liberty  she  enjoyed  at  Meudon. 
D'Antin,  who  saw  all  that  was  going  on,  became  the 
soul  of  a  conspiracy  against  Chamillart.  It  was  in- 
finitely well  managed.  Everything  moved  in  order 
and  harmony — always  prudently,  always  knowingly. 

The  King,  quietly  attacked  on  all  hands,  was  shaken  ; 
but  he  had  many  reasons  for  sticking  to  Chamillart. 
He  was  his  own  choice.  No  minister  had  stood  aside 
so  completely,  and  allowed  the  King  to  receive  all  the 


Saint-Simon  273 

praise  of  whatever  was  done.  Though  the  King's  rea- 
son was,  therefore,  soon  influenced,  his  heart  was  not 
so  easily.  But  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  not  dis- 
couraged. Monseigneur,  urged  by  Mademoiselle 
Choin,  had  already  spoken  out  to  the  King.  She 
laboured  to  make  him  speak  again ;  for,  on  the  previ- 
ous occasion,  he  had  been  listened  to  attentively. 

So  many  machines  could  not  be  set  in  motion  with- 
out some  noise  being  heard  abroad.  There  rose  in 
the  Court,  I  know  not  what  confused  murmurs,  the 
origin  of  which  could  not  be  pointed  out,  publishing 
that  either  the  State  or  Chamillart  must  perish  ;  that 
already  his  ignorance  had  brought  the  kingdom  within 
an  ace  of  destruction  ;  that  it  was  a  miracle  this  de- 
struction had  not  yet  come  to  pass  ;  and  that  it  would 
be  madness  to  tempt  Providence  any  longer.  Some 
did  not  blush  to  abuse  him  ;  others  praised  his  inten- 
tions, and  spoke  with  moderation  of  faults  that  many 
people  reproached  him  bitterly  with.  All  admitted  his 
rectitude,  but  maintained  that  a  successor  of  some  kind 
or  other  was  absolutely  necessary.  Some,  believing 
or  trying  to  persuade  others  that  they  carried  friend- 
ship to  as  far  a  point  as  was  possible,  protested  that 
they  should  ever  preserve  this  friendship,  and  would 
never  forget  the  pleasure  and  the  services  that  they 
had  received  from  Chamillart ;  but  delicately  confessed 
that  they  preferred  the  interests  of  the  State  to  their 
own  personal  advantage  and  the  support  they  would 
lose  ;  that,  even  if  Chamillart  were  their  brother,  they 
would  sorrowfully  admit  the  necessity  of  removing 
him !  At  last,  nobody  could  understand  either  how 
such  a  man  could  ever  have  been  chosen,  or  how  he 
VOL.  II.— iS 


274  Memoirs  of 

could  have  remained  so  long  in  his  place !  All  his 
faults  and  all  his  ridicules  formed  the  staple  of  Court 
conversation.  If  anybody  referred  to  the  great  things 
he  had  done,  to  the  rapid  gathering  of  armies  after  our 
disasters,  people  turned  on  their  heels  and  walked  away. 
Such  were  the  presages  of  the  fall  of  Chamillart. 

The  Marechal  de  Boufflers,  who  had  never  forgiven 
the  causes  that  led  to  the  loss  of  Lille,  joined  in  the 
attack  on  Chamillart ;  and  assisted  in  exciting  the  King 
against  him.  Chamillart  has  since  related  to  me  that 
up  to  the  last  moment  he  had  always  been  received 
equally  graciously  by  the  King — that  is,  up  to  two 
days  before  his  fall.  Then,  indeed,  he  noticed  that  the 
King's  countenance  was  embarrassed  ;  and  felt  inclined 
to  ask  if  he  was  displeasing  to  him,  and  to  offer  to  re- 
tire. Had  he  done  so,  he  might,  if  we  may  judge  from 
what  transpired  subsequently,  have  remained  in  office. 
But  now  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  come  personally 
into  the  field,  and,  believing  herself  sure  of  success, 
openly  attacked  Chamillart.  What  passed  between 
her  and  the  King  was  quite  private  and  never  related ; 
but  there  seems  reason  to  believe  that  she  did  not 
succeed  without  difficulty. 

On  Sunday  morning,  November  9,  the  King,  on 
entering  the  Council  of  State,  called  the  Due  de  Beau- 
villiers  to  him,  and  requested  him  to  go  in  the  after- 
noon and  tell  Chamillart  that  he  was  obliged,  for  mo- 
tives of  public  interest,  to  ask  him  to  resign  his  office ; 
but  that,  in  order  to  give  him  a  mark  of  his  esteem  and 
satisfaction  with  his  services,  he  continued  his  pension 
of  Minister — that  is  to  say,  twenty  thousand  francs — 
and  added  as  much  more,  with  one  to  his  son  of  twenty 


Saint-Simon  275 

thousand  francs  likewise.  He  added  that  he  should 
have  liked  to  see  Chamillart,  but  that  at  first  it  would 
grieve  him  too  much :  he  was  not  to  come  till  sent  for ; 
he  might  live  in  Paris,  and  go  where  he  liked.  The 
Due  de  Beauvilliers  did  all  he  could  to  escape  from 
carrying  so  harsh  a  message,  but  could  only  obtain 
permission  to  let  the  Due  de  Chevreuse  accompany 
him. 

They  went  to  Chamillart,  and  found  him  alone, 
working  in  his  cabinet.  The  air  of  consternation  with 
which  they  entered,  told  the  unfortunate  Minister  that 
something  disagreeable  had  happened ;  and  without 
giving  them  time  to  speak,  he  said,  with  a  serene  and 
tranquil  countenance,  "  What  is  the  matter,  gentle- 
men ?  If  what  you  have  to  say  concerns  only  me,  you 
may  speak  :  I  have  long  been  prepared  for  everything." 
This  gentle  firmness  touched  them  still  more.  They 
could  scarcely  explain  what  they  came  about.  Cham- 
illart listened  without  any  change  of  countenance,  and 
said,  with  the  same  air  and  tone  as  at  first :  '  The 
King  is  the  master.  I  have  endeavoured  to  serve  him 
to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  hope  some  one  else  will 
please  him  better,  and  be  more  lucky/'  He  then 
asked  if  he  had  been  forbidden  to  write  to  the  King, 
and  being  told  not,  he  wrote  a  letter  of  respect  and 
thanks,  and  sent  it  by  the  two  Dukes,  with  a  memoir 
which  he  had  just  finished.  He  also  wrote  to  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  He  sent  a  verbal  message  to  his  wife ; 
and,  without  complaint,  murmur,  or  sighs,  got  into  his 
carriage,  and  drove  to  L'Etang.  Both  then  and  after- 
wards he  showed  the  greatest  magnanimity.  Every 
one  went,  from  a  sort  of  fashion,  to  visit  him.  When 


276  Memoirs  of 

I  went,  the  house  looked  as  if  a  death  had  taken  place ; 
and  it  was  frightful  to  see,  in  the  midst  of  cries  and 
tears,  the  dead  man  walking,  speaking  with  a  quiet, 
gentle  air,  and  serene  brow, — unconstrained,  unaf- 
fected, attentive  to  every  one,  not  at  all  or  scarcely 
different  from  what  he  was  accustomed  to  be. 

Chamillart,  as  I  have  said,  had  received  permission 
to  live  at  Paris,  if  he  liked ;  but  soon  afterwards  he 
innocently  gave  umbrage  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
who  was  annoyed  that  his  disgrace  was  not  followed 
by  general  abandonment.  She  caused  him  to  be 
threatened  secretly,  and  he  prudently  left  Paris,  and 
went  far  away,  under  pretence  of  seeking  for  an  estate 
to  buy. 

Next  day  after  the  fall  of  Chamillart,  it  became 
known  that  the  triumph  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
completed,  and  that  Voysin,  her  creature,  was  the  suc- 
ceeding Secretary  of  State.  This  Voysin  had  the  one 
indispensable  quality  for  admission  into  the  counsels 
of  Louis  XIV. — not  a  drop  of  noble  blood  in  his  veins. 
He  had  married,  in  1683,  the  daughter  of  Trudaine. 
She  had  a  very  agreeable  countenance,  without  any 
affectation.  She  appeared  simple  and  modest,  and  oc- 
cupied with  her  household  and  good  works ;  but  in 
reality,  had  sense,  wit,  cleverness,  above  all,  a  natural 
insinuation,  and  the  art  of  bringing  things  to  pass 
without  being  perceived.  She  kept  with  great  tact  a 
magnificent  house.  It  was  she  who  received  Madame 
de  Maintenon  at  Dinan,  when  the  King  was  besieging 
Namur  ;  and,  as  she  had  been  instructed  by  M.  de  Lux- 
embourg in  the  way  to  please  that  lady,  succeeded  most 
effectually.  Among  her  arts  was  her  modesty,  which 


Saint-Simon  277 

led  her  prudently  to  avoid  pressing  herself  on  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  or  showing  herself  more  than  was  abso- 
lutely necessary.  She  was  sometimes  two  whole  days 
without  seeing  her.  A  trifle,  luckily  contrived,  fin- 
ished the  conquest  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  It  hap- 
pened that  the  weather  passed  suddenly  from  excessive 
heat  to  a  damp  cold,  which  lasted  a  long  time.  Im- 
mediately, an  excellent  dressing-gown,  simple,  and  well 
lined,  appeared  in  the  corner  of  the  chamber.  This 
present,  by  so  much  the  more  agreeable,  as  Madame 
de  Maintenon  had  not  brought  any  warm  clothing, 
touched  her  also  by  its  suddenness,  and  by  its  simple 
appearance,  as  if  of  its  own  accord. 

In  this  way,  the  taste  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  for 
Madame  Voysin  was  formed  and  increased.  Madame 
Voysin  obtained  an  appointment  for  her  husband,  and 
coming  to  Paris,  at  last  grew  extremely  familiar  with 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  Voysin  himself  had  much 
need  of  the  wife  that  Providence  had  given  him.  He 
was  perfectly  ignorant  of  everything  but  the  duties  of 
an  Intendant.  He  was,  moreover,  rough  and  uncivil, 
as  the  courtiers  soon  found.  He  was  never  unjust  for 
the  sake  of  being  so,  nor  was  he  bad  naturally ;  but  he 
knew  nothing  but  authority,  the  King  and  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  whose  will  was  unanswerable — his  sov- 
ereign law  and  reason.  The  choice  was  settled  be- 
tween the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  after 
supper,  the  clay  of  Chamillart's  fall.  Yoysin  was  con- 
ducted to  the  King  by  Bloin,  after  having  received  the 
orders  and  instructions  of  his  benefactress.  In  the 
evening  of  that  day,  the  King  found  Madame  Voysin 
with  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  kissed  her  several 
times  to  please  his  lady. 


278  Memoirs  of 

Voysin's  first  experience  of  the  duties  of  his  office 
was  unpleasant.  He  was  foolish  enough,  feeling  his 
ignorance,  to  tell  the  King,  that  at  the  outset  he  should 
be  obliged  to  leave  everything  to  his  Majesty,  but  that 
when  he  knew  better,  he  would  take  more  on  himself. 
The  King,  to  whom  Chamillart  used  himself  to  leave 
everything,  was  much  offended  by  this  language ;  and 
drawing  himself  up,  in  the  tone  of  a  master,  told  Voy- 
sin  to  learn,  once  for  all,  that  his  duties  were  to  receive 
and  expedite  orders,  nothing  else.  He  then  took  the 
projects  brought  to  him,  examined  them,  prescribed 
the  measures  he  thought  fit,  and  very  stiffly  sent  away 
Voysin,  who  did  not  know  where  he  was,  and  had 
great  want  of  his  wife  to  set  his  head  to  rights,  and  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon  to  give  him  completer  lessons 
than  she  had  yet  been  able  to  do.  Shortly  afterwards 
he  was  forbidden  to  send  any  orders  without  submit- 
ting them  to  the  Marechal  de  BoufBers.  He  was 
supple,  and  sure  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 
through  her  of  the  Marechal,  waited  for  time  to  re- 
lease him  from  this  state  of  tutelage  ;  and  showed  noth- 
ing of  his  annoyance,  especially  to  Boufflers  himself. 

Events  soon  happened  to  alter  the  position  of  the 
Marechal  de  Bouffiers. 

Flanders,  ever  since  the  opening  of  the  campaign, 
had  been  the  principal  object  of  attention.  Prince 
Eugene  and  Marlborough,  joined  together,  continued 
their  vast  designs,  and  disdained  to  hide  them.  Their 
prodigious  preparations  spoke  of  sieges.  Shall  I  say 
that  we  desired  them,  and  that  we  thought  of  nothing 
but  how  to  preserve,  not  use  our  army? 

Tournai  was  the  first  place  towards  which  the  ene- 


Saint-Simon  279 

mies  directed  their  arms.  After  a  short  resistance  it 
fell  into  their  hands.  Villars,  as  I  have  said,  was  com- 
mander in  Flanders.  Boufflers  feeling  that,  in  the 
position  of  affairs,  such  a  post  must  weigh  very  heavily 
upon  one  man,  and  that  in  case  of  his  death  there  was 
no  one  to  take  his  place,  offered  to  go  to  assist  him. 
The  King,  after  some  little  hesitation,  accepted  this 
magnanimous  offer,  and  Boufflers  set  out.  I  say  mag- 
nanimous offer,  because  Boufllers,  loaded  with  hon- 
ours and  glory,  might  well  have  hoped  to  pass  the  rest 
of  his  life  in  repose.  It  was  hardly  possible,  do  what 
he  might,  that  he  could  add  to  his  reputation  ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  was  not  unlikely  that  he  might  be 
made  answerable  for  the  faults  or  shortcomings  of 
others,  and  return  to  Paris  stripped  of  some  of  the 
laurels  that  adorned  his  brow.  But  he  thought  only 
of  the  welfare  of  the  State,  and  pressed  the  King  to 
allow  him  to  depart  to  Flanders.  The  King,  as  I  have 
said,  at  last  consented. 

The  surprise  was  great  in  the  army  when  he  arrived 
there.  The  general  impression  was  that  he  was  the 
bearer  of  news  of  peace.  Villars  received  him  with  an 
air  of  joy  and  respect,  and  at  once  showed  every  will- 
ingness to  act  in  concert  with  him.  The  two  generals 
accordingly  worked  harmoniously  together,  taking  no 
steps  without  consulting  each  other,  and  showing  great 
deference  for  each  other's  opinions.  They  were  like 
one  man. 

After  the  fall  of  Tournai,  our  army  took  up  position 
at  Malplaquet,  the  right  and  the  left  supported  by  two 
woods,  with  hedges  and  woods  before  the  centre,  so 
that  the  plain  was,  as  it  were,  cut  in  two.  Marlbor- 


280  Memoirs  of 

ough  and  Prince  Eugene  marched  in  their  turn,  fear- 
ing lest  Villars  should  embarrass  them  as  they  went 
towards  Mons,  which  place  they  had  resolved  to  be- 
siege. They  sent  on  a  large  detachment  of  their  army, 
under  the  command  of  the  Prince  of  Hesse,  to  watch 
ours.  He  arrived  in  sight  of  the  camp  at  Malplaquet 
at  the  same  time  that  we  entered  it,  and  was  quickly 
warned  of  our  existence  by  three  cannon  shots  that 
Villars,  out  of  braggadocio,  fired  by  way  of  appeal  to 
Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene.  Some  little  firing 
took  place  this  day  and  the  next,  the  loth  of  September, 
but  without  doing  much  harm  on  either  side. 

Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene,  warned  of  the 
perilous  state  in  which  the  Prince  of  Hesse  wras  placed 
— he  would  have  been  lost  if  attacked — hastened  at 
once  to  join  him,  and  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  morn- 
ing of  the  loth.  Their  first  care  was  to  examine  the 
position  of  our  army,  and  to  do  so,  while  waiting  for 
their  rear-guard,  they  employed  a  stratagem  which 
succeeded  admirably. 

They  sent  several  officers,  who  had  the  look  of  subal- 
terns, to  our  lines,  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  speak 
to  our  officers.  Their  request  was  granted.  Alber- 
gotti  came  down  to  them,  and  discoursed  with  them  a 
long  time.  They  pretended  they  came  to  see  whether 
peace  could  not  be  arranged,  but  they,  in  reality,  spoke 
of  little  but  compliments,  which  signified  nothing. 
They  stayed  so  long,  under  various  pretexts,  that  at 
last  we  were  obliged  to  threaten  them  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  them.  All  this  time  a  few  of  their  best  general 
officers  on  horseback,  and  a  larger  number  of  engineers 
and  designers  on  foot,  profited  by  these  ridiculous 


Saint-Simon  281 

colloquies  to  put  upon  paper  drawings  of  our  position, 
thus  being  able  to  see  the  best  positions  for  their  can- 
non, and  the  best  mode,  in  fact,  in  which  all  their  dis- 
position might  be  made.  We  learnt  this  artifice  after- 
wards from  the  prisoners. 

It  was  decided  that  evening  to  give  us  battle  on  the 
morrow,  although  the  deputies  of  the  States-General, 
content  with  the  advantages  that  had  been  already 
gained,  and  not  liking  to  run  the  risk  of  failure,  were 
opposed  to  an  action  taking  place.  They  were,  how- 
ever, persuaded  to  agree,  and  on  the  following  morn- 
ing the  battle  began. 

The  struggle  lasted  many  hours.  But  our  position 
had  been  badly  chosen,  and,  in  spite  of  every  effort,  we 
were  unable  to  maintain  it.  Villars,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  action,  received  a  wound  which  incapacitated 
him  from  duty.  All  the  burden  of  command  fell  upon 
Boufflers.  He  bore  it  well ;  but  after  a  time  finding 
his  army  dispersed,  his  infantry  overwhelmed,  the 
ground  slipping  from  under  his  feet,  he  thought  only 
of  beating  a  good  and  honourable  retreat.  He  led 
away  his  army  in  such  good  order,  that  the  enemy  were 
unable  to  interfere  with  it  in  the  slightest  degree.  Dur- 
ing all  the  march,  which  lasted  until  night,  wre  did  not 
lose  a  hundred  stragglers,  and  carried  off  all  the  can- 
non with  the  exception  of  a  few  pieces.  The  enemy 
passed  the  night  upon  the  battle-field,  in  the  midst  of 
twenty-five  thousand  dead,  and  marched  towards  Mons 
the  next  evening.  They  frankly  admitted  that  in  men 
killed  and  wounded,  in  general  officers  and  privates,  in 
flags  and  standard,  they  had  lost  more  than  we.  The 
battle  cost  them,  in  fact,  seven  lieutenant-generals,  five 


282  Memoirs  of 

other  generals,  about  eighteen  hundred  officers  killed 
or  wounded,  and  more  than  fifteen  thousand  men  killed 
or  rendered  unfit  for  service.  They  openly  avowed, 
also,  how  much  they  had  been  surprised  by  the  valour 
of  the  majority  of  our  troops,  above  all  of  the  cavalry, 
and  did  not  dissimulate  that  we  should  have  gained 
the  day,  had  we  been  better  led. 

Why  the  Marechal  Yillars  waited  ten  days  to  be 
attacked  in  a  position  so  disadvantageous,  instead  of 
at  once  marching  upon  the  enemies  and  overcoming, 
as  he  might  at  first  easily  have  done,  it  is  difficult  to 
understand.  He  threw  all  the  blame  upon  his  wound, 
although  it  was  well  known  that  the  fate  of  the  day 
was  decided  long  before  he  was  hurt. 

Although  forced  to  retire,  our  men  burned  with 
eagerness  to  engage  the  enemies  again.  Mons  had 
been  laid  siege  to.  Boufflers  tried  to  make  the  be- 
siegers give  up  the  undertaking.  But  his  men  were 
without  bread  and  without  pay ;  the  subaltern  officers 
were  compelled  to  eat  the  regulation  bread,  the  general 
officers  were  reduced  to  the  most  miserable  shifts,  and 
were  like  the  privates,  without  pay,  oftentimes  for  seven 
or  eight  days  running.  There  was  no  meat  and  no 
bread  for  the  army.  The  common  soldiers  were  re- 
duced to  herbs  and  roots  for  all  sustenance.  Under 
these  circumstances  it  was  found  impossible  to  perse- 
vere in  trying  to  save  Mons.  Nothing  but  subsistence 
could  be  thought  of. 

The  Court  had  now  become  so  accustomed  to  de- 
feats that  a  battle  lost  as  was  Malplaquet  seemed  half 
a  victory.  Boufflers  sent  a  courier  to  the  King  with 
an  account  of  the  event,  and  spoke  so  favourably  of  Yil- 


Saint-Simon  283 

lars,  that  all  the  blame  of  the  defeat  fell  upon  himself. 
Villars  was  everywhere  pitied  and  applauded,  although 
he  had  lost  an  important  battle,  when  it  was  in  his 
power  to  beat  the  enemies  in  detail,  and  render  them 
unable  to  undertake  the  siege  of  Mons,  or  any  other 
siege.  If  Boufflers  was  indignant  at  this,  he  was  still 
more  indignant  at  what  happened  afterwards.  In  the 
first  dispatch  he  sent  to  the  King  he  promised  to  send 
another  as  soon  as  possible  giving  full  details,  with 
propositions  as  to  how  the  vacancies  which  had  oc- 
curred in  the  army  might  be  filled  up.  On  the  very 
evening  he  sent  off  his  second  dispatch,  he  received 
intelligence  that  the  King  had  already  taken  his  dis- 
positions with  respect  to  these  vacancies,  without  hav- 
ing consulted  him  upon  a  single  point.  This  was  the 
first  reward  Boufflers  received  for  the  services  he  had 
just  rendered,  and  that,  too,  from  a  King  who  had  said 
in  public  that  without  Boufflers  all  was  lost,  and  that 
assuredly  it  was  God  who  had  inspired  him  with  the 
idea  of  going  to  the  army.  From  that  time  Boufflers 
fell  into  a  disgrace  from  which  he  never  recovered. 
He  had  the  courage  to  appear  as  usual  at  the  Court ; 
but  a  worm  was  gnawing  him  within  and  destroyed 
him.  Oftentimes  he  opened  his  heart  to  me  without 
rashness,  and  without  passing  the  strict  limits  of  his 
virtue ;  but  the  poniard  was  in  his  heart,  and  neither 
time  nor  reflection  could  dull  its  edge.  He  did  noth- 
ing but  languish  afterwards,  yet  without  being  con- 
fined to  his  bed  or  to  his  chamber,  but  did  not  live 
more  than  two  years.  Villars,  on  the  contrary,  was  in 
greater  favour  than  ever.  He  arrived  at  Court  tri- 
umphant. The  King  made  him  occupy  an  apartment 


284 


Saint-Simon 


at  Versailles,  so  that  his  wound  might  be  well  at- 
tended to. 

What  a  contrast !  What  a  difference  between  the 
services,  the  merit,  the  condition,  the  virtue,  the  situa- 
tion of  these  two  men !  What  inexhaustible  funds  of 
reflection  !* 

*  It  is  as  well  to  point  out  that  the  silly  and  ignorant,  who  are  unable 
to  emancipate  themselves  from  the  influence  of  the  title  of  Great,  usually 
given  to  Louis  XIV.,  and  who  are  yet  candid  enough  to  admit  that  in 
conduct  and  tone  of  thought  he  never  rose  above  the  level  of  a  pious 
dancing-master,  or  conscientious  master  of  the  ceremonies,  usually  fall 
back  on  his  mysterious  tact  in  choosing  men  of  genius!  Every  page 
of  Saint-Simon  proves  that  imbecility,  properly  combined  with  dishon- 
esty, was  the  true  passport  to  his  favour.  Literature  is  good  enough 
or  servile  enough  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  not  stifling  its  development. 
Is  France  so  sure  that  it  might  not  have  done  better? 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Disgrace  of  the  Due  d'Orleans — I  Endeavour  to  Separate  Him 
from  Madame  d'Argenton  —  Extraordinary  Reports  —  My 
Various  Colloquies  with  Him — The  Separation — Conduct  of 
Madame  d'Argenton — Death  and  Character  of  M.  le  Due — 
The  After-suppers  of  the  King. 

I  HAVE  described  in  its  proper  place  the  profound  fall 
of  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  and  the  neglect  in  which 
he  lived,  out  of  all  favour  with  the  King,  hated  by 
Madame  de  Maintenon  and  Monseigneur,  and  re- 
garded with  an  unfavourable  eye  by  the  public,  on  ac- 
count of  the  scandals  of  his  private  life.  I  had  long 
seen  that  the  only  way  in  which  he  could  hope  to  re- 
cover his  position  would  be  to  give  up  his  mistress, 
Madame  d'Argenton,  with  whom  he  had  been  on  terms 
of  intimacy  for  many  years  past,  to  the  knowledge  and 
the  scandal  of  all  the  world.  I  knew  it  would  be  a  bold 
and  dangerous  game  to  play,  to  try  to  persuade  him  to 
separate  himself  from  a  woman  he  had  known  and 
loved  so  long ;  but  I  determined  to  engage  in  it,  never- 
theless, and  I  looked  about  for  some  one  to  assist  me  in 
this  enterprise.  At  once  I  cast  my  eyes  upon  the 
Marechal  de  Besons,  who  for  many  long  years  had 
been  the  bosom  friend  of  M.  d'Orleans.  He  applauded 

285 


286  Memoirs  of 

the  undertaking,  but  doubted,  he  said,  its  success ; 
nevertheless  he  promised  to  aid  me  to  the  utmost  of 
his  power,  and,  it  will  be  seen,  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
For  some  time  I  had  no  opportunity  of  accosting  M. 
d'Orleans,  and  was  obliged  to  keep  my  project  in 
abeyance,  but  I  did  not  lose  sight  of  it ;  and  when  I  saw 
my  way  clear,  I  took  the  matter  in  hand,  determined 
to  strain  every  nerve  in  order  to  succeed. 

It  was  just  at  the  commencement  of  the  year  1710, 
that  I  first  spoke  to  M.  d'Orleans.  I  began  by  extract- 
ing from  him  an  admission  of  the  neglect  into  which  he 
had  fallen — the  dislike  of  the  King,  the  hatred  of  Mon- 
seigneur,  who  accused  him  of  wishing  to  replace  his 
son  in  Spain  ;  that  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  whom  he 
had  offended  by  his  bon  mot;  the  suspicions  of  the 
public,  who  talked  of  his  chemical  experiments — and 
then,  throwing  off  all  fear  of  consequences,  I  said  that 
before  he  could  hope  to  draw  back  his  friends  and  the 
world  to  him,  he  must  reinstate  himself  in  the  favour 
of  the  King.  He  appeared  struck  with  what  I  had 
said,  rose  after  a  profound  silence,  paced  to  and  fro, 
and  then  asked,  "  But  how?  "  Seeing  the  opportunity 
so  good,  I  replied  in  a  firm  and  significant  tone, 
"  How  ?  I  know  well  enough,  but  I  will  never  tell 
you ;  and  yet  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do."  "  Ah,  I  under- 
stand you,"  said  he,  as  though  struck  with  a  thunderbolt; 
"  I  understand  you  perfectly ;  "  and  he  threw  himself 
upon  the  chair  at  the  end  of  the  room.  There  he  re- 
mained some  time,  without  speaking  a  word,  yet  agi- 
tated and  sighing,  and  with  his  eyes  lowered.  I  broke 
silence  at  last,  by  saying  that  the  state  which  he  was  in 
had  touched  me  to  the  quick,  and  that  I  had  deter- 


Saint-Simon  287 

mined  in  conjunction  with  the  Marechal  de  Besons  to 
speak  to  him  upon  the  subject,  and  to  propose  the 
only  means  by  which  he  could  hope  to  bring  about  a 
change  in  his  position.  He  considered  some  time,  and 
then  giving  me  encouragement  to  proceed,  I  entered  at 
some  length  upon  the  proposal  I  had  to  make  to  him, 
and  left  him  evidently  affected  by  what  I  had  said, 
when  I  thought  I  had  for  the  time  gone  far  enough. 

The  next  day,  Thursday,  January  2nd,  Besons,  to 
whom  I  had  written,  joined  me  ;  and  after  I  had  com- 
municated to  him  what  had  passed  the  previous  even- 
ing, we  hastened  to  M.  d'Orleans.  He  received  us 
well,  and  we  at  once  commenced  an  attack.  In  order 
to  aid  my  purpose  as  much  as  possible,  I  repeated  to 
M.  d'Orleans,  at  this  meeting,  the  odious  reports  that 
were  in  circulation  against  him,  viz.,  that  he  intended 
to  repudiate  his  wife  forced  upon  him  by  the  King, 
in  order  to  marry  the  Queen  Dowager  of  Spain,  and  by 
means  of  her  gold  to  open  up  a  path  for  himself  to  the 
Spanish  throne ;  that  he  intended  to  wait  for  his  new 
wife's  death,  and  then  marry  Madame  d'Argenton,  to 
whom  the  genii  had  promised  a  throne ;  and  I  added, 
that  it  was  very  fortunate  that  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
had  safely  passed  through  the  dangers  of  her  confine- 
ment, for  already  some  wretches  had  begun  to  spread 
the  saying,  that  he  was  not  the  son  of  Monsieur  for 
nothing.  (An  allusion  to  the  death  of  Henriette 
d'Angleterre.) 

On  hearing  these  words,  the  Duke  was  seized  with  a 
terror  that  cannot  be  described,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  a  grief  that  is  above  expression.  I  took  advan- 
tage of  the  effect  my  discourse  had  had  upon  him,  to 


288  Memoirs  of 

show  how  necessary  it  was  he  should  make  a  great 
effort  in  order  to  win  back  the  favour  of  the  King  and 
of  the  public.  I  represented  to  him  that  the  only  way 
to  do  this  was  to  give  up  Madame  d'Argenton,  at  once 
and  for  ever,  and  to  announce  to  the  King  that  he  had 
done  so.  At  first  he  would  not  hear  of  such  a  step, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  employ  all  my  eloquence,  and  all 
my  firmness  too,  to  make  him  listen  to  reason.  One 
great  obstacle  in  our  way  was  the  repugnance  of  M. 
d'Orleans  for  his  wife.  He  had  been  married,  as  I 
have  described  in  the  early  part  of  these  memoirs, 
against  his  will,  and  with  no  sort  of  affection  for  the 
woman  he  was  given  to.  It  was  natural  that  he  should 
look  upon  her  with  dislike  ever  since  she  had  become 
his  wife.  I  did  what  I  could  to  speak  in  praise  of 
Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  and  Besons  aided  me  ; 
but  we  did  little  else  than  waste  our  breath  for  some 
time.  Our  praises  in  fact  irritated  M.  d'Orleans,  and  to 
such  a  point,  that  no  longer  screening  things  or  names, 
he  told  us  what  we  should  have  wished  not  to  hear, 
but  what  it  was  very  lucky  we  did  hear.  He  had  sus- 
picions, in  fact,  of  his  wife's  honour ;  but  fortunately  I 
was  able  to  prove  clearly  and  decisively  that  those  sus- 
picions were  unfounded,  and  I  did  so.  The  joy  of 
M.  d'Orleans  upon  finding  he  had  been  deceived  was 
great  indeed ;  and  when  we  separated  from  him  after 
mid-day,  in  order  to  go  to  dinner,  I  saw  that  a  point 
was  gained. 

A  little  before  three  o'clock  I  returned  to  M. 
d'Orleans,  whom  I  found  alone  in  his  cabinet  with 
Besons.  He  received  me  with  pleasure,  and  made  me 
seat  mvself  between  him  and  the  Marechal,  whom  he 


Saint-Simon  289 

complimented  upon  his  diligence.  Our  conversation 
re-commenced.  I  returned  to  the  attack  with  all  the 
arguments  I  could  muster,  and  the  Marechal  supported 
me ;  but  I  saw  with  affright  that  M.  d'Orleans  was  less 
reduced  than  when  we  had  quitted  him  in  the  morning, 
and  that  he  had  sadly  taken  breath  during  our  short 
absence.  I  saw  that,  if  we  were  to  succeed,  we  must 
make  the  best  use  we  could  of  our  time,  and  accord- 
ingly I  brought  all  my  powers  into  play  in  order  to 
gain  over  M.  d'Orleans. 

Feeling  that  everything  was  now  to  be  lost  or 
gained,  I  spoke  out  with  all  the  force  of  which  I  was 
capable,  surprising  and  terrifying  Marechal  Besons  to 
such  a  point,  with  my  hardihood,  that  he  had  not  a 
word  to  say  in  order  to  aid  me.  When  I  had  finished, 
M.  d'Orleans  thanked  me  in  a  piteous  tone,  by  which 
I  knew  the  profound  impression  I  had  made  upon  his 
mind.  I  proposed,  while  he  was  still  shaken,  that  he 
should  at  once  send  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  know 
when  she  would  grant  him  an  audience ;  for  he  had 
determined  to  speak  to  her  first  of  his  intention  to  give 
up  Madame  d'Argenton.  Besons  seconded  me ;  and 
while  we  were  talking  together,  not  daring  to  push  our 
point  farther,  M.  d'Orleans  much  astonished  us  by  ris- 
ing, running  with  impetuosity  to  the  door,  and  calling 
aloud  for  his  servants.  One  ran  to  him,  whom  he 
ordered  in  a  whisper  to  go  to  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
to  ask  at  what  hour  she  w7ould  see  him  on  the  morrow. 
He  returned  immediately,  and  threw  himself  into  a 
chair  like  a  man  whose  strength  fails  him  and  who  is 
at  his  last  gasp.  Uncertain  as  to  what  he  had  just 
done,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  sent  to  Madame  de  Mainte- 
VOL.  II. — 19 


290  Memoirs  of 

non.  "  Yes,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  despair. 
Instantly  I  started  towards  him,  and  thanked  him  with 
all  the  contentment  and  all  the  joy  imaginable.  This 
terrible  interview,  for  the  struggle  we  had  all  gone 
through  was  very  great,  was  soon  after  brought  to  a 
close,  and  Besons  and  myself  went  our  way,  congrat- 
ulating each  other  on  the  success  of  this  day's  labour. 

On  the  next  day,  Friday,  the  3rd  of  January,  I  saw 
M.  d'Orleans  as  he  preceded  the  King  to  mass,  and  in 
my  impatience  I  approached  him,  and  speaking  in  a 
low  tone,  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  "  that  woman."  I 
did  not  dare  to  mention  names  just  then.  He  replied 
"  yes,"  but  in  so  lackadaisical  a  tone  that  I  feared  he 
had  seen  her  to  effect,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  had  spoken 
to  her.  Upon  receiving  another  "  yes,"  like  the  other, 
my  emotion  redoubled.  "  But  have  you  told  her  all  ?  " 
I  said.  "  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  told  her  all." 
"  And  are  you  content?  "  said  I.  "  Nobody  could  be 
more  so,"  he  replied ;  "  I  was  nearly  an  hour  with  her, 
she  was  very  much  surprised  and  ravished." 

I  saw  M.  d'Orleans  under  better  circumstances  at 
another  period  of  the  day,  and  then  I  learnt  from  him 
that  since  meeting  me  he  had  spoken  to  the  King  also, 
and  told  him  all.  "  Ah,  Monsieur,"  cried  I  with  trans- 
port, "  how  I  love  you!  "  and  advancing  warmly  tow- 
ards him,  I  added,  "  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  at  last 
delivered ;  how  did  you  bring  this  to  pass?  "  "  I  mis- 
trusted myself  so  much,"  replied  he,  >;  and  was  so  vio- 
lently agitated  after  speaking  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  that  I  feared  to  run  the  risk  of  pausing  all  the 
morning;  so,  immediately  after  mass  1  spoke  to  the 
King,  and  " — here,  overcome  by  his  grief,  his  voice  fal- 


Saint-Simon     ,  291 

tered,  and  he  burst  into  sighs,  into  tears,  and  into  sobs. 
I  retired  into  a  corner.  A  moment  after  Besons  en- 
tered :  the  spectacle  and  the  profound  silence  aston- 
ished him.  He  lowered  his  eyes,  and  advanced  but 
little.  At  last  we  gently  approached  each  other.  I 
told  him  that  M.  d'Orleans  had  conquered  himself,  and 
had  spoken  to  the  King.  The  Marechal  was  so  bewil- 
dered with  surprise  and  joy  that  he  remained  for  some 
moments  speechless  and  motionless:  then  running 
towards  M.  d'Orleans,  he  thanked  him,  felicitated  him, 
and  wept  for  very  joy.  M.  d'Orleans  was  cruelly  agi- 
tated, now  maintaining  a  ferocious  silence,  and  now 
bursting  into  a  torrent  of  sighs,  sobs,  and  tears.  He 
said  at  last  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  been  ex- 
tremely surprised  with  the  resolution  he  had  taken, 
and  at  the  same  time  delighted.  She  assured  him  that 
it  would  put  him  on  better  terms  than  ever  with  the 
King,  and  that  Madame  d'Argenton  should  be  treated 
with  every  consideration.  I  pressed  M.  d'Orleans  to 
let  us  know  how  the  King  had  received  him.  He 
replied  that  the  King  had  appeared  very  much  sur- 
prised, but  had  spoken  coldly.  I  comforted  him  for 
this  disappointment  by  assuring  him  that  the  King's 
coldness  arose  only  from  his  astonishment,  and  that  in 
the  end  all  would  be  well. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  joy  felt  by 
Besons  and  myself  at  seeing  our  labours  brought  to 
this  satisfactory  point.  I  knew  I  should  make  many 
enemies  when  the  part  I  had  taken  in  influencing  M. 
d'Orleans  to  give  up  Madame  d'Argenton  came  to  be 
known,  as  it  necessarily  would ;  but  I  felt  I  had  done 
rightly,  and  left  the  consequences  to  Providence. 


292  Memoirs  of 

Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Orleans  showed  me  the  utmost 
gratitude  for  what  I  had  done.  She  exhibited,  too,  so 
much  intelligence,  good  sense,  and  ability,  in  the  con- 
versation I  had  with  her,  that  I  determined  to  spare 
no  pains  to  unite  her  husband  to  her  more  closely ; 
being  firmly  persuaded  that  he  would  nowhere  find  a 
better  counsellor  than  in  her.  The  surprise  of  the 
whole  Court,  when  it  became  known  that  M.  d'Orleans 
had  at  last  separated  himself  from  Madame  d'Argen- 
ton,  was  great  indeed.  It  was  only  equalled  by  the 
vexation  of  those  who  were  opposed  to  him.  Of 
course  in  this  matter  I  was  not  spared.  For  several 
days  nothing  was  spoken  of  but  this  rupture,  and 
everywhere  I  was  pointed  out  as  the  author  of  it, 
Besons  being  scarcely  alluded  to.  I  parried  the 
thrust  made  at  me  as  well  as  I  could,  as  much  for  the 
purpose  of  leaving  all  the  honour  to  M.  d'Orleans,  as 
for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the  anger  of  those  who 
were  annoyed  with  me ;  and  also  from  a  just  fear  of 
showing  that  I  had  too  much  influence  over  the  mind 
of  a  Prince  not  without  faults,  and  who  could  not 
always  be  led. 

As  for  Madame  d'Argenton,  she  received  the  news 
that  her  reign  was  over  with  all  the  consternation,  rage, 
and  despair  that  might  have  been  expected.  Madem- 
oiselle de  Chausseraye  was  sent  by  Madame  de 
Maintenon  to  announce  the  ill  news  to  her.  When 
Mademoiselle  de  Chausseraye  arrived  at  Madame 
d'Argenton's  house,  Madame  d'Argenton  was  out :  she 
had  gone  to  supper  with  the  Princesse  de  Rohan. 
Mademoiselle  de  Chausseraye  waited  until  she  re- 
turned, and  then  broke  the  matter  to  her  gently,  and 


Saint-Simon  293 

after  much  preamble  and  circumlocution,  as  though 
she  were  about  to  announce  the  death  of  some  one. 
The  tears,  the  cries,  the  bowlings  of  Madame  d'Argen- 
ton  filled  the  house,  and  announced  to  all  the  domestics 
that  the  reign  of  felicity  was  at  an  end  there.  After  a 
long  silence  on  the  part  of  Mademoiselle  de  Chausser- 
aye,  she  spoke  her  best  in  order  to  appease  the  poor  lady. 
She  represented  to  her  the  delicacy  and  liberality  of  the 
arrangements  M.  d'Orleans  had  made  in  her  behalf. 
In  the  first  place  she  was  free  to  live  in  any  part  of  the 
realm  except  Paris  and  its  appanages.  In  the  next 
place  he  assured  to  her  forty-five  thousand  livres  a 
year,  nearly  all  the  capital  of  which  would  belong  to  the 
son  he  had  had  by  her,  whom  he  had  recognised  and 
made  legitimate,  and  who  has  since  become  Grandee 
of  Spain,  Grand  Prieur  of  France,  and  General  of  the 
Galleys  (for  the  best  of  all  conditions  in  France  is  to 
have  none  at  all,  and  to  be  a  bastard).  Lastly  he  un- 
dertook to  pay  all  her  debts  up  to  the  day  of  the 
rupture,  so  that  she  should  not  be  importuned  by  any 
creditor,  and  allowed  her  to  retain  her  jewellery,  her 
plate,  her  furniture — worth  altogether  about  four  hun- 
dred thousand  livres.  His  liberality  amounted  to  a 
total  of  about  two  million  livres,  which  I  thought 
prodigious. 

Madame  d'Argenton,  in  despair  at  first,  became 
more  tractable  as  she  learnt  the  provisions  which  had 
been  made  for  her,  and  the  delicacy  with  which  she 
was  treated.  She  remained  four  days  in  Paris,  and 
then  returned  to  her  father's  house  near  Port-Sainte- 
Maxence,  the  Chevalier  d'Orleans,  her  son,  remaining 
at  the  Palais  Royale.  The  King  after  his  first  surprise 


294  Memoirs  of 

had  worn  away,  was  in  the  greatest  joy  at  the  rupture ; 
and  testified  his  gratification  to  M.  d'Orleans,  whom 
he  treated  better  and  better  every  day.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  did  not  dare  not  to  contribute  a  little  at 
first;  and  in  this  the  Prince  felt  the  friendship  of  the 
Jesuits,  whom  he  had  contrived  to  attach  to  him.  The 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  did  marvels  of  her  own  ac- 
cord ;  and  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  also,  being  urged  by 
M.  de  Beauvilliers.  Monseigneur  alone  remained  irri- 
tated, on  account  of  the  Spanish  affair. 

I  must  here  mention  the  death  of  M.  le  Due.  He 
was  engaged  in  a  trial  which  was  just  about  to  be 
pleaded.  He  had  for  some  time  suffered  from  a 
strange  disease,  a  mixture  of  apoplexy  and  epilepsy, 
which  he  concealed  so  carefully,  that  he  drove  away 
one  of  his  servants  for  speaking  of  it  to  his  fellows. 
For  some  time  he  had  had  a  continual  headache.  This 
state  troubled  the  gladness  he  felt  at  being  delivered 
from  his  troublesome  father  and  brother-in-law.  One 
evening  he  was  riding  in  his  carriage,  returning  from 
a  visit  to  the  Hotel  de  Coislin,  without  torches,  and 
with  only  one  servant  behind,  when  he  felt  so  ill  that  he 
drew  the  string,  and  made  his  lackey  get  up  to  tell 
him  whether  his  mouth  was  not  all  on  one  side.  This 
was  not  the  case,  but  he  soon  lost  speech  and  con- 
sciousness after  having  requested  to  be  taken  in  pri- 
vately to  the  Hotel  de  Conde.  They  there  put  him  in 
bed.  Priests  and  doctors  came.  But  he  only  made 
horrible  faces,  and  died  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

Madame  la  Duchesse  did  not  lose  her  presence  of 
mind,  and,  whilst  her  husband  was  dying,  took  steps 


Saint-Simon  295 

to  secure  her  future  fortune.  Meanwhile  she  managed 
to  cry  a  little,  but  nobody  believed  in  her  grief.  As 
for  M.  le  Due,  I  have  already  mentioned  some  anec- 
dotes of  him  that  exhibit  his  cruel  character.  He  was 
a  marvellously  little  man,  short,  without  being  fat.  A 
dwarf  of  Aladame  la  Princesse  was  said  to  be  the  cause. 
He  was  of  a  livid  yellow,  nearly  always  looked  furious, 
and  was  ever  so  proud,  so  audacious,  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  get  used  to  him.  His  cruelty  and  ferocity  were 
so  extreme  that  people  avoided  him,  and  his  pretended 
friends  would  not  invite  him  to  join  in  any  merriment. 
They  avoided  him  :  he  ran  after  them  to  escape  from 
solitude,  and  would  sometimes  burst  upon  them  during 
their  jovial  repasts,  reproach  them  with  turning  a  cold 
shoulder  to  him,  and  change  their  merriment  to  desola- 
tion. 

After  the  death  of  M.  le  Due,  a  grand  discussion  on 
precedence  at  the  After-suppers,  set  on  foot  by  the 
proud  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  was.  after  an  elaborate  ex- 
amination by  the  King,  brought  to  a  close.  The  King 
ordered  his  determination  to  be  kept  secret  until  he 
formally  declared  it.  It  is  necessary  to  set  forth  in  a 
few  words  the  mechanism  of  the  After-suppers  every 
day.  The  King,  on  leaving  table,  stopped  less  than  a 
half-quarter  of  an  hour  with  his  back  leaning  against 
the  balustrade  of  his  chamber.  He  there  found  in  a 
circle  all  the  ladies  who  had  been  at  his  supper,  and 
who  came  there  to  wait  for  him  a  little  before  he  left 
table,  except  the  ladies  who  sat,  who  came  out  after 
him,  and  who,  in  the  suite  of  the  Princes  and  the  Prin- 
cesses who  had  supped  with  him,  advanced  one  by  one 
and  made  him  a  courtesy,  and  filled  up  the  remainder 


296  Saint-Simon 

of  the  standing  circle;  for  a  space  was  always  left  for 
them  by  the  other  ladies.  The  men  stood  behind.  The 
King  amused  himself  by  observing  the  dresses,  the 
countenances,  and  the  gracefulness  of  the  ladies'  cour- 
tesies, said  a  word  to  the  Princes  and  Princesses  who 
had  supped  with  him,  and  who  closed  the  circle  near 
him  on  either  hand,  then  bowed  to  the  ladies  on  right 
and  left,  bowed  once  or  twice  more  as  he  went  away, 
with  a  grace  and  majesty  unparalleled,  spoke  some- 
times, but  very  rarely,  to  some  lady  in  passing,  entered 
the  first  cabinet,  where  he  gave  the  order,  and  then  ad- 
vanced to  the  second  cabinet,  the  doors  from  the  first 
to  the  second  always  remaining  open.  There  he  placed 
himself  in  a  fauteuil,  Monsieur,  while  he  was  there,  in 
another;  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  Madame  (but 
only  after  the  death  of  Monsieur),  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry  (after  her  marriage),  the  three  bastard-daugh- 
ters, and  Madame  du  Maine  (when  she  was  at  Ver- 
sailles), on  stools  on  each  side.  Monseigneur,  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  the  Due  de  Berry,  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
the  two  bastards,  M.  le  Due  (as  the  husband  of  Madame 
la  Duchesse),  and  afterwards  the  two  sons  of  M.  du 
Maine,  when  they  had  grown  a  little,  and  D'Antin, 
came  afterwards,  all  standing.  It  was  the  object  of 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  to  change  this  order,  and  make 
her  daughters  take  precedence  of  the  wrives  of  the 
Princes  of  the  blood;  but  the  King  declared  against 
her.  When  he  made  the  public  announcement  of  his 
decision,  the  Due  d'Orleans  took  the  opportunity  of  al- 
luding to  a  marriage  which  would  console  him  for 
everything.  "  I  should  think  so,"  replied  the  King, 
dryly,  and  with  a  bitter  and  mocking  smile. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Proposed  Marriage  of  Mademoiselle — My  Intrigues  to  Bring 
It  About — The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and  Other  Allies — 
The  Attack  Begun — Progress  of  the  Intrigue — Economy  at 
Marly — The  Marriage  Agreed  Upon — Scene  at  Saint  Cloud — 
Horrible  Reports — The  Marriage — Madame  de  Saint-Simon 
—Strange  Character  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry. 

IT  was  the  desire  of  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
to  marry  Mademoiselle  (their  daughter)  to  the  Due 
de  Berry  (third  son  of  Monseigneur,  and  consequently 
brother  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  and  of  the  King  of 
Spain).  There  were  many  obstacles  in  the  way — partly 
the  state  of  public  affairs — partly  the  fact  that  the  King, 
though  seemingly,  was  not  really  quite  reconciled — 
partly  the  recollection  o-f  that  cruel  ban  mot  in  Spain — 
partly  the  fact  that  Monseigneur  would  naturally  object 
to  marry  his  favourite  son  with  the  daughter  of  a  man 
towards  whom  he  always  testified  hatred  in  the  most 
indecent  manner.  The  recent  union  between  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  Mademoiselle  Choin,  and  Monseigneur 
was  also  a  great  obstacle.  In  fact  after  what  M.  le 
Due  d'Orleans  had  been  accused  of  in  Spain,  with  his 
abilities  and  talents  it  seemed  dangerous  to  make  him 
the  father-in-law  of  M.  le  Due  de  Berry. 

For  my  part  I  passionately  desired  the  marriage  of 
297 


298  Memoirs  of 

Mademoiselle,  although  I  saw  that  all  tended  to  the 
marriage  of  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon,  daughter  of 
Madame  la  Duchesse,  in  her  place.  I  had  many  rea- 
sons, private  and  public,  for  acting  against  the  latter 
marriage;  but  it  was  clear  that  unless  very  vigorous 
steps  were  taken  it  would  fall  like  a  mill-stone  upon 
my  head,  crush  me,  and  wound  the  persons  to  whom  I 
was  attached.  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  and  Madame  la 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  were  immersed  in  the  deepest  in- 
dolence. They  desired,  but  did  not  act.  I  went  to 
them  and  explained  the  state  of  the  case— pointed  out 
the  danger  of  Madame  la  Duchesse — excited  their 
pride,  their  jealousy,  their  spite.  Will  it  be  believed 
that  it  was  necessary  to  put  all  this  machinery  in  mo- 
tion? At  last,  by  working  on  them  by  the  most  power- 
ful motives,  I  made  them  attend  to  their  own  interests. 
The  natural  but  extreme  laziness  of  the  Duchesse  d'Or- 
leans gave  way  this  time,  but  less  to  ambition  than  to 
the  desire  of  defeating  a  sister  who  was  so  inimical  to 
her.  We  next  concerted  how  we  should  make  use  of 
M.  d'Orleans  himself. 

That  Prince,  with  all  his  wit  and  his  passion  for  Mad- 
emoiselle-— which  had  never  weakened  since  her  birth 
• — was  like  a  motionless  beam,  which  stirred  only  in 
obedience  to  our  redoubled  efforts,  and  who  remained 
so  to  the  conclusion  of  this  great  business.  I  often  re- 
flected on  the  causes  of  this  incredible  conduct;  and 
was  led  to  suppose  that  the  knowledge  of  the  irremedi- 
able nature  of  what  had  taken  place  in  Spain  was  the 
rein  that  restrained  him.  However  this  may  have  been, 
I  was  throughout  obliged  to  use  main  force  to  bring 
him  to  activity.  I  determined  to  form  and  direct  a 


Saint-Simon  299 

powerful  cabal  in  order  to  bring  my  views  to  pass.  The 
first  person  of  whom  it  was  necessary  to  make  sure  was 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  That  Princess  had 
many  reasons  for  the  preference  of  Mademoiselle  over 
Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  (daughter  of  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse). She  knew  the  King  perfectly;  and  could  not 
be  ignorant  of  the  power  of  novelty  over  his  mind,  of 
which  power  she  had  herself  made  a  happy  experiment. 
\Yhat  she  had  to  fear  was  another  herself — I  mean  a 
Princess  on  the  same  terms  with  the  King  as  she  was, 
who,  being  younger  than  she,  would  amuse  him  by 
new  childish  playfulness  no  longer  suited  to  her  age, 
and  yet  which  she  (the  Duchess)  was  still  obliged  to  em- 
ploy. The  very  contrast  of  her  own  untimely  childish- 
ness, with  a  childishness  so  much  more  natural,  would 
injure  her.  The  new  favourite  would,  moreover,  not 
have  a  husband  to  support;  for  the  Due  de  Berry  was 
already  well  liked.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne,  on  the 
contrary,  since  the  affair  of  Flanders,  had  fallen  into 
disgrace  with  his  father,  Monseigneur;  and  his  scru- 
ples, his  preciseness,  his  retired  life,  devoted  to  literal 
compliance  with  the  rules  of  devotion,  contrasted  un- 
favourably with  the  free  life  of  his  younger  brother. 

The  present  and  the  future — whatever  was  important 
in  life — were  therefore  at  stake  with  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse de  Bourgogne;  and  yet  her  great  duty  to  her- 
self was  perpetually  in  danger  of  being  stifled  by  the 
fictitious  and  petty  duties  of  daily  life.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  stimulate  her.  She  felt  these  things  in  general; 
and  that  it  was  necessary  that  her  sister-in-law  should 
be  a  Princess,  neither  able  nor  willing  to  give  her 
umbrage,  and  over  whom  she  should  be  mistress.  But 


300  Memoirs  of 

in  spite  of  her  wit  and  sense,  she  was  not  capable  of 
feeling  in  a  sufficiently  lively  manner  of  herself  all  the 
importance  of  these  things,  amidst  the  effervescence  of 
her  youth,  the  occupation  of  her  successive  duties,  the 
private  and  general  favour  she  seemed  to  enjoy,  the 
greatness  of  a  rank  in  expectation  of  a  throne,  the  round 
of  amusements  which  dissipated  her  mind  and  her  days: 
gentle,  light,  easy — perhaps  too  easy.  I  felt,  however, 
that  from  the  effect  of  these  considerations  upon  her  I 
should  derive  the  greatest  assistance,  on  account  of  the 
influence  she  could  exert  upon  the  King,  and  still  more 
on  Madame  de  Maintenon,  both  of  whom  loved  her 
exceedingly;  and  I  felt  all  that  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
would  have  neither  the  grace  nor  the  fire  necessary  to 
stick  it  in  deep  enough — on  account  of  her  great  in- 
terest in  the  matter. 

I  influenced  the  Duchesse  de  Villeroy  and  Madame 
de  Levi,  who  could  work  on  the  Duchess,  and  also 
Madame  d'O ;  obtained  the  indirect  assistance  of  M.  du 
Maine — and  by  representing  to  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse, 
and  de  Beauvilliers,  that  if  M.  de  Berry  married  Mad- 
emoiselle de  Bourbon,  hatred  would  arise  between  him 
and  his  brother,  and  great  danger  to  the  state,  enlisted 
them  also  on  my  side.  I  knew  that  the  Due  de  Berry 
was  a  fort  that  could  only  be  carried  by  mine  and  as- 
sault. Working  still  further,  I  obtained  the  concur- 
rence of  the  Jesuits;  and  made  the  Pere  de  Trevoux 
our  partisan.  Nothing  is  indifferent  to  the  Jesuits. 
They  became  a  powerful  instrument.  As  a  last  ally 
I  obtained  the  co-operation  of  the  Marechal  cle  Bouf- 
flers.  Such  were  the  machines  that  my  friendship  for 
those  to  whom  I  was  attached,  mv  hatred  for  Madame 


Saint-Simon  301 

la  Duchesse,  my  care  of  my  present  and  future  situa- 
tion, enabled  me  to  discover,  to  set  going,  with  an  ex- 
act and  compassed  movement,  a  precise  agreement,  and 
the  strength  of  a  lever — which  the  space  of  one  Lent 
commenced  and  perfected — all  whose  movements,  em- 
barrassments, and  progress  in  their  divers  lines  I  knew; 
and  which  I  regularly  wound  up  in  reciprocal  cadence 
every  day! 

Towards  the  end  of  the  Lent,  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne.  having  sounded  the  King  and  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  had  found  the  latter  well  disposed,  and  the  for- 
mer without  any  particular  objection.  One  day  that 
Mademoiselle  had  been  taken  to  see  the  King  at  the 
apartments  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  where  Mon- 
seigneur  happened  to  be,  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
praised  her,  and  when  she  had  gone  away,  ventured, 
with  that  freedom  and  that  predetermined  impulsive- 
ness and  gaiety  which  she  sometimes  made  use  of,  to 
say:  "  What  an  excellent  wife  for  M.  le  Due  de  Berry!  " 
This  expression  made  Monseigneur  redden  with  anger, 
and  exclaim,  "  that  would  be  an  excellent  method  of 
recompensing  the  Due  d'Orleans  for  his  conduct  in 
Spain !  "  When  he  had  said  these  words  he  hastily  left 
the  company,  all  very  much  astonished ;  for  no  one  ex- 
pected a  person  seemingly  so  indifferent  and  so  meas- 
ured to  come  out  so  strongly.  The  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne, who  had  only  spoken  so  to  feel  the  way  with 
Monseigneur  in  presence  of  the  King,  was  bold  and 
clever  to  the  end.  Turning  with  a  bewildered  look 
towards  Madame  de  Maintenon,  "  My  Aunt,"  quoth 
she  to  her,  "have  I  said  something  foolish?"  The 
King,  piqued,  answered  for  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 


302  Memoirs  of 

said,  warmly,  that  if  Madame  la  Duchesse  was  working 
upon  Monseigneur  she  would  have  to  deal  with  him. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  adroitly  envenomed  the  matter 
by  wondering  at  a  vivacity  so  uncommon  with  Mon- 
seigneur, and  said  that  if  Madame  la  Duchesse  had  that 
much  of  influence,  she  would  soon  make  him  do  other 
things  of  more  consequence.  The  conversation,  inter- 
rupted in  various  ways  and  renewed,  advanced  with 
emotion,  and  in  the  midst  of  reflections  that  did  more 
injury  to  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  than  the  friendship 
of  Monseigneur  for  Madame  la  Duchesse  could  serve 
her. 

When  I  learned  this  adventure,  I  saw  that  it  was 
necessary  to  attack  Monseigneur  by  piquing  the  King 
against  Madame  la  Duchesse,  and  making  him  fear 
the  influence  of  that  Princess  on  Monseigneur  and 
through  Monseigneur  on  himself;  that  no  opportunity 
should  be  lost  to  impress  on  the  King  the  fear  of  being 
governed  and  kept  in  pupilage  by  his  children;  that  it 
was  equally  important  to  frighten  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  and  show  her  the  danger  she  was  in  from  the 
influence  of  Monseigneur.  I  worked  on  the  fears  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  by  Madame  de  Villeroy 
and  de  Levi;  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  by  M.  de  Beau- 
villiers;  on  Madame  de  Maintenon,  by  the  Marechal  de 
Boufflers;  on  the  King  himself,  by  the  Perc  Tellier; 
and  all  these  batteries  succeeded. 

In  order  not  to  hurry  matters  too  much,  I  took  a 
turn  to  La  Ferte,  and  then  came  back  to  Marly  just 
as  the  King  arrived.  Here  I  had  a  little  alarm,  which 
did  not,  however,  discourage  me.  I  learned,  in  fact, 
that  one  day  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  urged  per- 


Saint-Simon  303 

haps  rather  too  much  on  the  subject  of  Mademoiselle 
by  Madame  d'O,  and  somewhat  annoyed,  had  shown 
an  inclination  for  a  foreign  marriage.  Would  to  God 
that  such  a  marriage  could  have  been  brought  about! 
I  should  always  have  preferred  it,  but  there  were  many 
reasons  to  render  it  impossible. 

On  my  arrival  at  Marly,  I  found  everything  in  trouble 
there:  the  King  so  chagrined  that  he  could  not  hide 
it — although  usually  a  master  of  himself  and  of  his 
face:  the  Court  believing  that  some  new  disaster  had 
happened  which  would  unwillingly  be  declared.  Four 
or  five  days  passed  in  this  way:  at  last  it  became  known 
what  was  in  the  wind.  The  King,  informed  that  Paris 
and  all  the  public  were  murmuring  loudly  about  the 
expenses  of  Marly — at  a  time  when  it  was  impossible 
to  meet  the  most  indispensable  claims  of  a  necessary 
and  unfortunate  war — was  more  annoyed  this  time  than 
on  any  other  occasion,  although  he  had  often  received 
the  same  warnings.  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  to  hinder  him  from  returning  straight 
to  Versailles.  The  upshot  was  that  the  King  declared 
with  a  sort  of  bitter  joy,  that  he  would  no  longer  feed 
the  ladies  at  Marly;  that  for  the  future  he  would  dine 
alone,  simply,  as  at  Versailles;  that  he  would  sup  every 
clay  at  a  table  for  sixteen  with  his  family,  and  that  the 
spare  places  should  be  occupied  by  ladies  invited  in 
the  morning;  that  the  Princesses  of  his  family  should 
each  have  a  table  for  the  ladies  they  brought  with  them; 
and  that  Madames  Voysin  and  Desmarets  should  each 
have  one  for  the  ladies  who  did  not  choose  to  eat  in 
their  own  rooms.  He  added  bitterly,  that  by  making 
retrenchments  at  Marly  he  should  not  spend  more  there 


304  Memoirs  of 

than  at  Versailles,  so  that  he  could  go  there  when  he 
pleased  without  being  exposed  to  the  blame  of  any  one. 
He  deceived  himself  from  one  end  of  this  business  to 
the  other,  but  nobody  but  himself  was  deceived,  if  in- 
deed he  was  in  any  other  way  but  in  expecting  to  de- 
ceive the  world.  The  truth  is,  that  no  change  was 
made  at  Marly,  except  in  name.  The  same  expenses 
went  on.  The  enemies  insultingly  ridiculed  these  re- 
trenchments. The  King's  subjects  did  not  cease  to 
complain. 

About  this  time  an  invitation  to  Marly  having  been 
obtained  by  Madame  la  Duchesse  for  her  daughters, 
Mademoiselles  de  Bourbon  and  de  Charolois,  the  King 
offered  one  to  Mademoiselle.  This  offer  was  discussed 
before  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Orleans  and  me.  We 
at  last  resolved  to  leave  Mademoiselle  at  Versailles;  and 
not  to  be  troubled  by  seeing  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon 
passing  her  clays  in  the  same  salon,  often  at  the  same 
play-table  with  the  Due  de  Berry,  making  herself  ad- 
mired by  the  Court,  fluttering  round  Monseigneur,  and 
accustoming  the  eye  of  the  King  to  her.  We  knew  that 
these  trifles  would  not  bring  about  a  marriage;  and  it 
was  still  more  important  not  to  give  up  Mademoiselle 
to  the  malignity  of  the  Court,  to  exposure,  and  com- 
plaints, from  which  it  might  not  always  be  possible  to 
protect  her. 

But  I  had  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  act  vigorously, 
and  pressed  the  Due  d'Orleans  to  speak  to  the  King. 
To  my  surprise  he  suddenly  heaped  up  objections,  de- 
rived from  the  public  disasters,  with  which  a  princely 
marriage  would  contrast  disagreeably.  The  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  was  strangely  staggered  by  this  admission; 


Saint-Simon  305 

it  only  angered  me.  I  answered  by  repeating  all  my 
arguments.  At  last  he  gave  way,  and  agreed  to  write 
to  the  King.  Here,  again,  I  had  many  difficulties  to 
overcome,  and  was  obliged,  in  fact,  to  write  the  letter 
myself,  and  dictate  it  to  him.  He  made  one  or  two 
changes;  and  at  last  signed  and  sealed  it.  But  I  had 
the  greatest  difficulty  yet  in  inciting  him  to  give  it  to 
the  King.  I  had  to  follow  him,  to  urge  him,  to  pique 
him,  almost  to  push  him  into  the  presence.  The  King 
received  the  letter  very  graciously;  it  had  its  effect;  and 
the  marriage  was  resolved  on. 

When  the  preliminaries  were  settled,  the  Due  and 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  began  to  show  their  desire  that 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  should  be  lady  of  honour  to 
their  daughter  when  she  had  become  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry.  I  was  far  from  flattered  by  this  distinction,  and 
refused  as  best  I  might.  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  went 
to  have  an  audience  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne, 
and  asked  not  to  be  appointed;  but  her  objections  were 
not  listened  to,  or  listened  to  with  astonishment.  Mean- 
while I  endeavoured  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans  with  La  Choin;  but  utterly  failed. 
La  Choin  positively  refused  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  Duke  and  Duchess.  I  was  much  embarrassed 
to  communicate  this  news  to  them,  to  whom  I  was  at- 
tached. It  was  necessary,  however,  to  do  so.  I  has- 
tened to  Saint-Cloud,  and  found  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  at  table  with  Mademoiselle  and  some  ladies 
in  a  most  delightful  menagerie,  adjoining  the  railing  of 
the  avenue  near  the  village,  with  a  charming  pleasure- 
garden  attached  to  it.  All  this  belonged,  under  the 
name  of  Mademoiselle,  to  Madame  de  Mare,  her  gov- 

VOL.  II. — 20 


306  Memoirs  of 

erness.  I  sat  down  and  chatted  with  them;  but  the 
impatience  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  to  learn  the  news  could 
not  be  checked.  lie  asked  me  if  I  was  very  satisfied. 
"  Middling,"  I  replied,  not  to  spoil  his  dinner;  but  he 
rose  at  once  and  took  me  into  the  garden.  lie  was 
much  affected  to  hear  of  the  ill-success  of  my  negotia- 
tion; and  returned  downcast  to  table.  I  took  the  first 
opportunity  to  biame  his  impatience,  and  the  facility 
with  which  he  allowed  the  impressions  he  received  to 
appear.  Always  in  extreme,  he  said  he  cared  not;  and 
talked  wildly  of  planting  cabbages — talk  in  which  he 
indulged  often  without  meaning  anything. 

Soon  after,  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  went  aside  with  Mad- 
emoiselle, and  I  found  myself  placed  accidentally  near 
Madame  de  Fontaine-Martel.  She  was  a  great  friend 
of  mine,  and  much  attached  to  M.  d'Orleans;  and  it 
was  by  her  means  that  I  had  become  friendly  with  the 
Duke.  She  felt  at  once  that  something  was  going  on; 
and  did  not  doubt  that  the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle 
was  on  the  carpet.  She  said  so,  but  I  did  not  answer, 
yet  without  assuming  an  air  of  reserve  that  would  have 
convinced  her.  Taking  her  text  from  the  presence  of 
M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  with  Mademoiselle,  she  said  to 
me  confidentially,  that  it  would  be  well  to  hasten  this 
marriage  if  it  was  possible,  because  all  sorts  of  horrible 
things  were  invented  to  prevent  it;  and  without  waiting 
to  be  too  much  pressed,  she  told  me  that  the  most 
abominable  stories  were  in  circulation  as  to  the  friend- 
ship of  father  and  daughter.  The  hair  of  my  head  stood 
on  end.  I  now  felt  more  heavily  than  ever  with  what 
demons  we  had  to  do;  and  how  necessary  it  was  to 
hurrv  on  matters.  For  this  reason,  after  we  had  walked 


Saint-Simon  307 

about  a  good  deal  after  dark,  I  again  spoke  with  M. 
d'Orleans,  and  told  him  that  if,  before  the  end  of  this 
voyage  to  Marly,  he  did  not  carry  the  declaration  of 
his  daughter's  marriage,  it  would  never  take  place. 

I  persuaded  him;  and  left  him  more  animated  and 
encouraged  than  I  had  seen  him.  He  amused  himself 
I  know  not  in  what  other  part  of  the  house.  I  then 
talked  a  little  with  Madame  de  Mare,  my  relation  and 
friend,  until  I  was  told  that  Madame  de  Fontaine-Martel 
wished  to  speak  to  me  in  the  chateau.  When  I  went 
there  I  was  taken  to  the  cabinet  of  the  Duchesse  d'Or- 
leans, when  I  learnt  that  she  had  just  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  abominable  reports  spread  against  her 
husband  and  daughter.  We  deplored  together  the  mis- 
fortune of  having  to  do  with  such  furies.  The  Duch- 
ess protested  that  there  was  not  even  any  seeming 
in  favour  of  these  calumnies.  The  Duke  had  ever  ten- 
derly loved  his  daughter  from  the  age  of  two  years, 
when  he  was  nearly  driven  to  despair  by  a  serious  ill- 
ness she  had,  during  which  he  watched  her  night  and 
day;  and  this  tenderness  had  gone  on  increasing  day 
by  day,  so  that  he  loved  her  more  than  his  son.  We 
agreed  that  it  would  be  cruel,  wicked,  and  dangerous 
to  tell  M.  d'Orleans  what  was  said. 

At  length  the  decisive  blow  was  struck.  The  King 
had  an  interview  with  Monseigneur;  and  told  him  he 
had  determined  on  the  marriage,  begging  him  to  make 
up  his  mind  as  soon  as  possible.  The  declaration  \vas 
soon  made.  What  must  have  been  the  state  of  Ma- 
dame la  Duchesse!  I  never  knew  what  took  place  in 
her  house  at  this  strange  moment;  and  would  have 
dearly  paid  for  a  hiding-place  behind  the  tapestry.  As 


308  Memoirs  of 

for  Monseigneur,  as  soon  as  his  original  repugnance 
was  overcome,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  com- 
ply, he  behaved  very  well.  He  received  the  Due  and 
Duchesse  d'Orleans  very  well,  and  kissed  her  and  drank 
their  health  and  that  of  all  the  family  cheerfully.  They 
were  extremely  delighted  and  surprised. 

My  next  visit  to  Saint-Cloud  was  very  different  from 
that  in  which  I  reported  the  failure  of  my  endeavours 
with  Mademoiselle  Choin.  I  was  received  in  triumph 
before  a  large  company.  To  my  surprise,  Mademoi- 
selle, as  soon  as  I  appeared,  ran  towards  me,  kissed  me 
on  both  checks,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  led  me  into 
the  orangery.  Then  she  thanked  me,  and  admitted 
that  her  father  had  constantly  kept  her  acquainted  with 
all  the  negotiations  as  they  went  on.  I  could  not  help 
blaming  his  easiness  and  imprudence.  She  mingled  all 
with  testimonies  of  the  most  lively  joy;  and  I  was  sur- 
prised by  her  grace,  her  eloquence,  the  dignity  and 
the  propriety  of  the  terms  she  used.  I  learned  an  im- 
mense number  of  things  in  this  half-hour's  conversa- 
tion. Afterwards  Mademoiselle  took  the  opportunity 
to  say  and  do  all  manner  of  graceful  things  to  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon. 

The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  now  returned  once  more  to 
the  charge,  in  order  to  persuade  my  wife  to  be  dame 
d'honneur  to  her  daughter.  I  refused  as  firmly  as  I 
could.  But  soon  after  the  King  himself  named  Ma- 
dame de  Saint-Simon;  and  when  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gngnc  suggested  a  doubt  of  her  acceptance,  exclaimed, 
almost  piqued:  "Refuse!  O  no!  not  when  she  learns 
that  it  is  my  desire."  In  fact,  I  soon  received  so  many 
menacing  warnings  that  I  was  obliged  to  give  in;  and 


Saint-Simon  309 

Madame  de  Saint-Simon  received  the  appointment. 
This  was  made  publicly  known  by  the  King,  who  up 
to  that  very  morning  remained  doubtful  whether  he 
would  be  met  by  a  refusal  or  not;  and  who,  as  he  was 
about  to  speak,  looked  at  me  with  a  smile  that  was 
meant  to  please  and  warn  me  to  be  silent.  Madame 
de  Saint-Simon  learned  the  news  with  tears.  She  was 
excellently  well  received  by  the  King,  and  compliment- 
ed agreeably  by  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

The  marriage  took  place  with  the  usual  ceremonies. 
The  Due  de  Beauvilliers  and  Madame  de  Saint-Simon 
drew  the  curtains  of  the  couple  when  they  went  to 
bed ;  and  laughed  together  at  being  thus  employed. 
The  King,  who  had  given  a  very  mediocre  present  of 
diamonds  to  the  new  Duchesse  de  Berry,  gave  nothing 
to  the  Due  de  Berry.  The  latter  had  so  little  money 
that  he  could  not  play  during  the  first  days  of  the 
voyage  to  Marly.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  told 
this  to  the  King,  who,  feeling  the  state  in  which  he 
himself  was,  said  that  he  had  only  five  hundred  pistoles 
to  give  him.  He  gave  them  with  an  excuse  on  the 
misfortunes  of  the  time,  because  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne thought  with  reason  that  a  little  was  better  than 
nothing,  and  that  it  was  insufferable  not  to  be  able  to 
play. 

Madame  de  Mare  was  now  set  at  liberty.  The  place 
of  Dame  d'Atours  was  offered  to  her;  but  she  advanced 
many  reasons  for  not  accepting  it,  and  on  being  pressed, 
refused  with  an  obstinacy  that  surprised  every  one. 
We  were  not  long  in  finding  out  the  cause  of  her  ob- 
stinate unwillingness  to  remain  with  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse de  Berrv.  The  more  that  Princess  allowed 


310  Saint-Simon 

people  to  see  what  she  was — and  she  never  concealed 
herself — the  more  we  saw  that  Madame  de  Mare  was 
in  the  right;  and  the  more  we  admired  the  miracle  of 
care  and  prudence  which  had  prevented  anything  from 
coming  to  light;  and  the  more  we  felt  how  blindly  peo- 
ple act  in  what  they  desire  with  the  most  eagerness,  and 
achieve  with  much  trouble  and  much  joy;  and  the  more 
we  deplored  having  succeeded  in  an  affair  which,  so 
far  from  having  undertaken  and  carried  out  as  I  did, 
I  should  have  traversed  with  still  greater  zeal,  even  if 
Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  had  profited  thereby  without 
knowing  it,  if  I  had  known  half  a  quarter — what  do  I 
say?  the  thousandth  part — of  what  we  unhappily  wit- 
nessed! I  shall  say  no  more  for  the  present;  and  as  I 
go  on,  I  shall  only  say  what  cannot  be  concealed;  and 
I  say  thus  much  so  soon  merely  because  the  strange 
things  that  soon  happened  began  to  develop  themselves 
a  little  during  this  first  voyage  to  Marly. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Birth  of  Louis  XV. — The  Marechale  de  la  Meilleraye — Saint- 
Ruth's  Cudgel — The  Cardinal  de  Bouillon's  Desertion  from 
France — Anecdotes  of  His  Audacity. 

OX  Saturday,  the  I5th  of  February,  the  King  was 
waked  up  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  an 
hour  earlier  than  usual,  because  Madame  la  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  was  in  the  pains  of  labour.  He  dressed 
himself  diligently  in  order  to  go  to  her.  She  did  not 
keep  him  waiting  long.  At  three  minutes  and  three 
seconds  after  eight  o'clock,  she  brought  into  the  world 
a  Due  d'Anjou,  who  is  the  King  Louis  XV.,  at  pres- 
ent reigning,  which  caused  a  great  joy.  This  Prince 
was  soon  after  sprinkled  by  Cardinal  de  Janson  in  the 
chamber  where  he  was  born,  and  then  carried  upon  the 
knees  of  the  Duchesse  de  Yentadour  in  the  sedan  chair 
of  the  King  into  the  King's  apartments,  accompanied 
by  the  Marechal  de  Boufflers  and  by  the  body-guards 
with  officers.  A  little  while  after  La  Yrilliere  carried 
to  him  the  cordon  bleu,  and  all  the  Court  went  to  see 
him,  two  things  which  much  displeased  his  brother, 
who  did  not  scruple  to  show  it.  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon,  who  was  in  the  chamber  of  Madame  la  Dau- 

3" 


312  Memoirs  of 

phinc,  was  by  chance  one  of  the  first  who  saw  this  new- 
born Prince.  The  accouchement  passed  over  very 
well. 

About  this  time  died  the  Marechale  de  la  Meilleraye, 
aged  eighty-eight  years.  She  was  the  paternal  aunt  of 
the  Marechal  de  Villeroy  and  the  Due  de  Brissac,  his 
brother-in-law.  It  was  she  who  unwittingly  put  that 
cap  on  MM.  de  Brissac,  which  they  have  ever  since 
worn  in  their  arms,  and  which  has  been  imitated.  She 
was  walking  in  a  picture  gallery  of  her  ancestors  one 
day  with  her  niece,  a  lively,  merry  person,  whom  she 
obliged  to  salute  and  be  polite  to  each  portrait,  an'd 
who  in  pleasant  revenge  persuaded  her  that  one  of  the 
said  portraits  wore  a  cap  which  proved  him  to  be  an 
Italian  Prince.  She  swallowed  this,  and  had  the  cap 
introduced  into  her  arms,  despite  her  family,  who  are 
now  obliged  to  keep  it,  but  who  always  call  it,  "  My 
Aunt's  cap."  On  another  occasion,  people  were  speak- 
ing in  her  presence  of  the  death  of  the  Chevalier  de 
Savoie,  brother  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons,  and  of  the 
famous  Prince  Eugene,  who  died  very  young,  very 
suddenly,  very  debauched,  and  full  of  benefices.  The 
talk  became  religious.  She  listened  some  time,  and 
then,  with  a  profound  look  of  conviction,  said :  "  For 
my  part,  I  am  persuaded  that  God  will  think  twice 
about  damning  a  man  of  such  high  birth  as  that !  " 
This  caused  a  burst  of  laughter,  but  nothing  could 
make  her  change  her  opinion.  Her  vanity  was  cruelly 
punished.  She  used  to  affect  to  apologise  for  having 
married  the  Marechal  de  la  Meilleraye.  After  his 
death,  being  in  love  with  Saint-Ruth,  her  page,  she 
married  him ;  but  took  care  not  to  disclose  her  mar- 


Saint-Simon  313 

riage  for  fear  of  losing  her  distinction  at  Court. 
Saint-Ruth  was  a  very  honourable  gentleman,  very 
poor,  tall,  and  well  made,  whom  everybody  knew ;  ex- 
tremely ugly — I  don't  know  whether  he  became  so 
after  his  marriage.  He  was  a  worthy  man  and  a  good 
soldier.  But  he  was  also  a  rough  customer,  and  when 
his  distinguished  wife  annoyed  him  he  twirled  his 
cudgel  and  belaboured  her  soundly.  This  went  so  far 
that  the  Marechale,  not  being  able  to  stand  it  any 
longer,  demanded  an  audience  of  the  King,  admitted 
her  weakness  and  her  shame,  and  implored  his  protec- 
tion. The  King  kindly  promised  to  set  matters  to 
rights.  He  soundly  rated  Saint-Ruth  in  his  cabinet, 
and  forbade  him  to  ill-treat  the  Marechale.  But  what 
is  bred  in  the  bone  will  never  get  out  of  the  flesh.  The 
Marechale  came  to  make  fresh  complaints.  The  King 
grew  angry  in  earnest,  and  threatened  Saint-Ruth. 
This  kept  him  quiet  for  some  time.  But  the  habit  of 
the  stick  was  too  powerful ;  and  he  flourished  it  again. 
The  Marechale  flew  as  usual  to  the  King,  who,  seeing 
that  Saint-Ruth  was  incorrigible,  was  good  enough  to 
send  him  to  Guyenne  under  pretence  of  employment. 
Afterwards  he  was  sent  to  Ireland,  where  he  was  killed. 
The  Marechale  de  la  Meilleraye  had  been  perfectly 
beautiful,  and  was  full  of  wit.  She  so  turned  the  head 
of  the  Cardinal  de  Retz,  that  he  wanted  to  turn  every- 
thing topsy-turvy  in  France,  in  order  to  make  himself 
a  necessary  man  and  force  the  King  to  use  his  influence 
at  Rome  in  order  to  obtain  a  dispensation  by  which  he 
(the  Cardinal)  should  be  allowed,  though  a  priest  and  a 
consecrated  bishop,  to  marry  the  Marechale  de  la 
Meilleraye  while  her  husband  was  alive  and  she  on  very 


314  Memoirs  of 

good  terms  with  him  !  This  madness  is  inconceivable 
and  yet  existed. 

I  have  described  in  its  place  the  disgrace  of  Cardinal 
de  Bouillon,  and  the  banishment  to  which  he  was 
sentenced.  Exile  did  not  improve  him.  He  lan- 
guished in  weariness  and  rage,  and  saw  no  hope  that 
his  position  would  ever  change.  Incapable  of  repose, 
he  had  passed  all  his  long  enforced  leisure  in  a  monastic 
war.  The  monks  of  Cluni  were  his  antagonists.  He 
was  constantly  bringing  actions  against  them,  which 
they  as  constantly  defended.  He  accused  them  of  re- 
volt— they  accused  him  of  scheming.  They  profited  by 
his  disgrace,  and  omitted  nothing  to  shake  off  the  yoke 
which,  when  in  favour,  he  had  imposed  upon  them. 
These  broils  went  on,  until  at  last  a  suit,  which  Car- 
dinal de  Bouillon  had  commenced  against  the  refrac- 
tory monks,  and  which  had  been  carried  into  the  grand 
Council  of  Paris,  was  decided  against  him,  notwith- 
standing all  the  efforts  he  made  to  obtain  a  contrary 
verdict.  This  was  the  last  drop  which  made  the  too 
full  cup  overflow,  and  which  consummated  the  resolu- 
tion that  Cardinal  had  long  since  had  in  his  head,  and 
which  he  now  executed. 

By  the  terms  of  his  exile,  he  was  allowed  to  visit, 
without  restraint,  his  various  abbeys,  situated  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  realm.  He  took  advantage  of  this 
privilege,  gave  out  that  he  was  going  to  Normandy,  but 
instead  of  doing  so,  posted  away  to  Picardy,  stopped 
briefly  at  Abbeville,  gained  Arras,  where  he  had  the 
Abbey  of  Saint-Waast,  thence  feigning  to  go  and  see 
his  abbey  of  Vigogne,  he  passed  over  into  the  camp  of 
the  enemy,  and  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the 


Saint-Simon  315 

Duke  of  Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene.  The 
Prince  d'Auvergne,  his  nephew,  had  deserted  from 
France  in  a  similar  manner  some  time  before,  as  I 
have  related  in  its  place,  and  was  in  waiting  to  receive 
the  Cardinal,  who  was  also  very  graciously  welcomed 
by  Prince  Eugene  and  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who 
introduced  him  to  the  heads  of  the  army,  and  lavished 
upon  him  the  greatest  honours. 

Such  a  change  of  condition  appeared  very  sweet  to 
this  spirit  so  haughty  and  so  ulcerated,  and  marvel- 
lously inflated  the  Cardinal's  courage.  He  recom- 
pensed his  dear  hosts  by  discourses,  which  were  the 
most  agreeable  to  them,  upon  the  misery  of  France 
(which  his  frequent  journeys  through  the  provinces  had 
placed  before  his  eyes),  upon  its  powerlessness  to  sus- 
tain the  war;  upon  the  discontent  which  reigned 
among  the  people ;  upon  the  exhaustion  of  the 
finances ;  in  fine,  he  spared  nothing  that  perfidy  or  in- 
gratitude could  suggest  to  flatter  them  and  gain  their 
favour. 

No  sooner  had  the  Cardinal  had  time  to  turn  round 
among  his  new  friends  than  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
King  announcing  his  flight — a  letter  which  was  such  a 
monstrous  production  of  insolence,  of  madness,  of 
felony,  and  which  was  written  in  a  style  so  extravagant 
and  confused  that  it  deserves  to  be  thus  specially 
alluded  to.  In  this  letter,  as  full  of  absurdities,  impu- 
dence, and  of  madness,  as  of  words,  the  Cardinal,  while 
pretending  much  devotion  for  the  King,  and  much 
submission  to  the  Church,  plainly  intimated  that  he 
cared  for  neither.  Although  this  was  as  the  sting  of  a 
gnat  upon  an  elephant,  the  King  was  horribly  piqued 


316  Memoirs  of 

at  it.  He  received  the  letter  on  the  24th  of  May,  gave 
it  the  next  day  to  D'Aguesseau,  attorney-general,  and 
ordered  him  to  commence  a  suit  against  Cardinal  de 
Bouillon,  as  guilty  of  felony.  At  the  same  time  the 
King  wrote  to  Rome,  enclosing  a  copy  of  Bouillon's 
letter,  so  that  it  might  be  laid  before  the  Pope.  This 
letter  received  little  approbation.  People  considered 
that  the  King  had  forgotten  his  dignity  in  writing  it,  it 
seemed  so  much  like  a  justification  and  so  little  worthy 
of  a  great  monarch.  As  for  the  Cardinal  de  Bouillon, 
he  grew  more  haughty  than  ever.  He  wrote  a  letter 
upon  the  subject  of  this  trial  with  which  he  was  threat- 
ened, even  more  violent  than  his  previous  letter,  and 
proclaimed  that  cardinals  were  not  in  any  way  amena- 
ble to  secular  justice,  and  could  not  be  judged  except 
by  the  Pope  and  all  the  sacred  college. 

So  in  fact  it  seemed  to  be ;  for  although  the  Parlia- 
ment commenced  the  trial,  and  issued  an  order  of 
arrest  against  the  Cardinal,  they  soon  found  them- 
selves stopped  by  difficulties  which  arose,  and  by  this 
immunity  of  the  cardinals,  which  was  supported  by 
many  examples.  After  all  the  fuss  made,  therefore, 
this  cause  fell  by  its  own  weakness,  and  exhaled  itself,  so 
to  speak,  in  insensible  perspiration.  A  fine  lesson  this 
for  the  most  powerful  princes,  and  calculated  to  teach 
them  that  if  they  want  to  be  served  by  Rome  they 
should  favour  those  that  are  there,  instead  of  raising 
their  own  subjects,  who,  out  of  Rome,  can  be  of  no 
service  to  the  State,  and  who  are  good  only  to  seize 
three  or  four  hundred  thousand  livres  a  year  in  bene- 
fices, with  the  quarter  of  which  an  Italian  would  be 
more  than  recompensed.  A  French  cardinal  in 


Saint-Simon  317 

France  is  the  friend  of  the  Pope,  but  the  enemy  of  the 
King,  the  Church,  and  the  State ;  a  tyrant  very  often  to 
the  clergy  and  the  ministers,  at  liberty  to  do  what  he 
likes  without  ever  being  punished  for  anything. 

As  nothing  could  be  clone  in  this  way  against  the 
Cardinal,  other  steps  were  taken.  The  fraudulent 
"  Genealogical  History  of  the  House  of  Auvergne," 
which  I  have  previously  alluded  to,  was  suppressed  by 
royal  edict,  and  orders  given  that  all  the  copies  of  it 
should  be  seized.  Baluze,  who  had  written  it,  was  de- 
prived of  his  chair  of  Professor  of  the  Royal  College, 
and  driven  out  of  the  realm.  A  large  quantity  of 
copies  of  this  edict  were  printed  and  publicly  dis- 
tributed. The  little  patrimony  that  Cardinal  de  Bouil- 
lon had  not  been  able  to  carry  away,  was  immediately 
confiscated  :  the  temporality  of  his  benefices  had  been 
already  seized,  and  on  the  7th  of  July  appeared  a  decla- 
ration from  the  King,  which,  depriving  the  Cardinal  of 
all  his  advowsons,  distributed  them  to  the  bishops  of 
the  dioceses  in  which  those  advowsons  were  situated. 

These  blows  were  very  sensibly  felt  by  the  other 
Bouillons,  but  it  was  no  time  for  complaint.  The  Car- 
dinal himself  became  more  enraged  than  ever.  Even 
up  to  this  time  he  had  kept  so  little  within  bounds  that 
he  had  pontifically  officiated  in  the  church  of  Tournai 
at  the  Tc  Dcmn  for  the  taking  of  Douai  (by  the 
enemies) ;  and  from  that  town  (Tournai),  where  he  had 
fixed  his  residence,  he  wrote  a  long  letter  to  M.  de 
Beauvais,  bishop  of  the  place,  when  it  yielded,  and  who 
would  not  sing  the  Tc  Dcmn,  exhorting  him  to  return 
to  Tournai  and  submit  to  the  new  rule.  Some  time 
after  this,  that  is  to  sav,  towards  the  end  of  the  vear, 


318  Saint-Simon 

he  was  guilty  of  even  greater  presumption.  The 
Abbey  of  Saint- Arnaud,  in  Flanders,  had  just  been 
given  by  the  King  to  Cardinal  La  Tremoille,  who  had 
been  confirmed  in  his  possession  by  bulls  from  the 
Pope.  Since  then  the  abbey  had  fallen  into  the  power 
of  the  enemy.  Upon  this,  Cardinal  de  Bouillon  caused 
himself  to  be  elected  Abbot  by  a  minority  of  the  monks 
and  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  others.  It  was 
curious  to  see  this  dutiful  son  of  Rome,  who  had  de- 
clared in  his  letter  to  the  King,  that  he  thought  of 
nothing  except  the  dignity  of  the  King,  and  how  he 
could  best  serve  God  and  the  Church,  thus  elect  himself 
in  spite  of  the  bulls  of  the  Pope,  in  spite  of  the  orders 
of  the  King,  and  enjoy  by  force  the  revenues  of  the 
abbey,  protected  solely  by  heretics ! 

But  I  have  in  the  above  recital  alluded  to  the  taking 
of  Douai :  this  reminds  me  that  I  have  got  to  speak 
of  our  military  movements,  our  losses,  and  our  vic- 
tories, of  this  year.  In  Flanders  and  in  Spain  they 
were  of  some  importance,  and  had  better,  perhaps, 
have  a  chapter  or  more  to  themselves. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Imprudence  of  Villars — The  Danger  of  Truthfulness — Mili- 
tary Mistakes — The  Fortunes  of  Berwick — The  Son  of 
James — Berwick's  Report  on  the  Army — Imprudent  Saying 
of  Villars — "  The  Good  Little  Fellow  "  in  a  Scrape — What 
Happens  to  Him. 

THE  King,  who  had  made  numberless  promotions, 
appointed  this  year  the  same  generals  to  the 
same  armies.  YiHars  was  chosen  for  Flanders,  as 
before.  Having  arrived  at  the  very  summit  of  favour, 
he  thought  he  might  venture,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  to  bring  a  few  truths  before  the  King.  He  did 
nothing  then  but  represent  to  the  ministers,  nay,  even 
to  the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  themselves, 
the  wretched  state  of  our  magazines  and  our  garrisons  ; 
the  utter  absence  of  all  provision  for  the  campaign,  and 
the  piteous  condition  of  the  troops  and  their  officers, 
without  money  and  without  pay.  This  was  new  lan- 
guage in  the  mouth  of  Villars,  who  hitherto  had  owed 
all  his  success  to  the  smiling,  rose-tinted  account  he 
had  given  of  everything.  It  was  the  frequency  and  the 
hardihood  of  his  falsehoods  in  this  respect  that  made 
the  King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  look  upon  him 
as  their  sole  resource ;  for  he  never  said  anything  dis- 

319 


320  Memoirs  of 

agreeable,  and  never  found  difficulties  anywhere. 
Now  that  he  had  raised  this  fatal  curtain,  the  aspect  ap- 
peared so  hideous  to  them,  that  they  found  it  easier  to 
fly  into  a  rage  than  to  reply.  From  that  moment  they 
began  to  regard  Villars  with  other  eyes.  Finding  that 
he  spoke  now  the  language  which  everybody  spoke, 
they  began  to  look  upon  him  as  the  world  had  always 
looked  upon  him. — to  find  him  ridiculous,  silly,  impu- 
dent, lying,  insupportable ;  to  reproach  themselves 
with  having  elevated  him  from  nothing,  so  rapidly  and 
so  enormously ;  they  began  to  shun  him,  to  put  him 
aside,  to  make  him  perceive  what  they  thought,  and  to 
let  others  perceive  it  also. 

Villars  in  his  turn  was  frightened.  He  saw  the  pros- 
pect of  losing  \vhat  he  had  gained,  and  of  sinking  into 
hopeless  disgrace.  With  the  effrontery  that  was  nat- 
ural to  him,  he  returned  therefore  to  his  usual  flat- 
teries, artifices,  and  deceits ;  laughed  at  all  dangers  and 
inconveniences,  as  having  resources  in  himself  against 
everything!  The  coarseness  of  this  variation  was  as 
plain  as  possible  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  choosing  another 
general  was  equally  plain,  and  Villars  thus  got  out  of 
the  quagmire.  He  set  forth  for  the  frontier,  therefore, 
in  his  coach,  and  travelling  easy  stages,  on  account  of 
his  wound,  arrived  in  due  time  at  the  army. 

Neither  Prince  Eugene  nor  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough  wished  for  peace  ;  their  object  was,  the  first,  from 
personal  vengeance  against  the  King,  and  a  desire  to 
obtain  a  still  greater  reputation  ;  the  second,  to  get 
rich,  for  ambition  was  the  prominent  passion  of  one, 
and  avarice  of  the  other — their  object  was,  I  say,  to 
enter  France,  and,  profiting  by  the  extreme  weakness 


Saint-Simon  321 

and  straitened  state  of  our  troops  and  of  our  places,  to 
push  their  conquests  as  far  as  possible. 

As  for  the  King,  stung  by  his  continual  losses,  he 
wished  passionately  for  nothing  so  much  as  a  victory, 
which  should  disturb  the  plans  of  the  enemies,  and  de- 
liver him  from  the  necessity  of  continuing  the  sad  and 
shameful  negotiations  for  peace  he  had  set  on  foot  at 
Gertruydemberg.  But  the  enemies  were  well  posted, 
and  Yillars  had  imprudently  lost  a  good  opportunity 
of  engaging  them.  All  the  army  had  noticed  this 
fault;  he  had  been  warned  in  time  by  several  general 
officers,  and  by  the  Marechal  de  Montesquieu,  but  he 
would  not  believe  them.  He  did  not  dare  to  attack  the 
enemies,  now,  after  having  left  them  leisure  to  make 
all  their  dispositions.  The  army  cried  aloud  against 
so  capital  a  fault.  Yillars  answered  with  his  usual 
effrontery.  He  had  quarrelled  with  his  second  in  com- 
mand, the  Marechal  de  Montesquieu,  and  now  knew 
not  what  to  do. 

In  this  crisis,  no  engagement  taking  place,  the  King 
thought  it  fitting  to  send  Berwick  into  Flanders  to  act 
as  mediator,  even,  to  some  extent,  as  dictator  to  the 
army.  He  was  ordered  to  bring  back  an  account  of  all 
things,  so  that  it  might  be  seen  whether  a  battle  could 
or  could  not  be  fought. 

I  think  I  have  already  stated  who  Berwick  was ;  but 
I  will  here  add  a  few  more  words  about  him  to  signalise 
his  prodigious  and  rapid  advancement. 

We  were  in  the  golden  age  of  bastards,  and  Berwick 

was  a  man  who  had  reason  to  think  so.     Bastard  of 

James  II.,  of  England,  he  had  arrived  in  France,  at  the 

age  of  eighteen,  with  that  monarch,  after  the  Revolu- 

VOL.  II.— 21 


322 


Memoirs  of 


tion  of  1688.  At  twenty-two  he  was  made  lieutenant- 
general,  and  served  as  such  in  Flanders,  without  hav- 
ing passed  through  any  other  rank.  At  thirty-three 
he  commanded  in  chief  in  Spain  with  a  patent  of  gen- 
eral. At  thirty-four  he  was  made,  on  account  of  his 
victory  at  Almanza,  Grandee  of  Spain,  and  Chevalier 
of  the  Golden  Fleece.  He  continued  to  command  in 
chief  until  February,  1706,  when  he  was  made  Mar- 
shal of  France,  being  then  not  more  than  thirty-six 
years  old.  He  was  an  English  Duke,  and  although 
as  such  he  had  no  rank  in  France,  the  King  had  awarded 
it  to  him,  as  to  all  who  came  over  with  James.  This 
was  making  a  rapid  fortune  with  a  vengeance,  under 
a  King  who  regarded  people  of  thirty-odd  as  children, 
but  who  thought  no  more  of  the  ages  of  bastards  than 
of  those  of  the  gods. 

For  more  than  a  year  past  Berwick  had  coveted  to 
be  made  Duke  and  Peer.  But  he  could  not  obtain  his 
wish.  Now,  however,  that  he  was  to  be  sent  into 
Flanders  for  the  purpose  I  have  just  described,  it 
seemed  a  good  opportunity  to  try  again.  He  did  try, 
and  was  successful.  He  was  made  Duke  and  Peer.  He 
had  been  twice  married.  By  his  first  wife  he  had  had  a 
son.  By  his  second  several  sons  and  daughters.  Will 
it  be  believed  that  he  was  hardy  enough  to  propose, 
and  that  we  were  weak  enough  to  accord  to  him,  that 
his  son  of  the  first  bed  should  be  formally  excluded 
from  the  letters-patent  of  Duke  and  Peer,  and  that 
those  of  the  second  bed  should  alone  be  entered  there? 
Yet  so  it  was.  Berwick  was,  in  respect  to  England, 
like  the  Jews  who  await  the  Messiah.  He  coaxed 
himself  always  with  the  hope  of  a  revolution  in  Eng- 


Saint-Simon  323 

land,  which  should  put  the  Stuarts  on  the  throne  again, 
and  reinstate  him  in  his  wealth  and  honours.  He  was 
son  of  the  sister  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  by  which 
general  he  was  much  loved,  and  with  whom,  by  per- 
mission of  the  King,  and  of  King  James,  he  kept  up  a 
secret  intercourse,  of  which  all  three  were  the  dupes, 
but  which  enabled  Berwick  to  maintain  other  inter- 
courses in  England,  and  to  establish  his  batteries  there, 
hoping  thus  for  his  reinstatement  even  under  the  gov- 
ernment established.  This  explains  his  motive  for 
the  arrangement  he  made  in  the  letters-patent.  He 
wished  his  eldest  son  to  succeed  to  his  English  duke- 
dom and  his  English  estates  ;  to  make  the  second  Duke 
and  Peer  of  France,  and  the  third  Grandee  of  Spain. 
Three  sons  hereditarily  elevated  to  the  three  chief  dig- 
nities of  the  three  chief  realms  in  Europe,  it  must  be 
agreed  was  not  bad  \vork  for  a  man  to  have  achieved 
at  fifty  years  of  age!  But  Berwick  failed  in  his  Eng- 
lish projects.  Do  what  he  could  all  his  life  to  court  the 
various  ministers  who  came  from  England,  he  never 
could  succeed  in  re-establishing  himself. 

The  scandal  was  great  at  the  complaisance  of  the 
King  in  consenting  to  a  family  arrangement,  by  which 
a  cadet  was  put  over  the  head  of  his  elder  brother ;  but 
the  time  of  the  monsters  had  arrived.  Berwick  bought 
an  estate  that  he  created  under  the  name  of  Fits-James. 
The  King,  \vho  allowed  him  to  do  so,  was  shocked  by 
the  name;  and,  in  my  presence,  asked  Berwick  the 
meaning  of  it ;  he,  without  any  embarrassment,  thus 
explained  it : 

The  King  of  England,  in  legitimatising  their  chil- 
dren, gave  them  a  name  and  arms,  which  pass  to 


324  Memoirs  of 

their  posterity.  The  name  varies.  Thus  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  bastard  of  Charles  II.,  had  the  name  of 
"  Lennox ;  "  the  Dukes  of  Cleveland  and  of  Grafton, 
by  the  same  king,  that  of  "  Fitz-Roi,"  which  means 
"  son  of  the  king;  "  in  fine,  the  Duke  of  Berwick  had  the 
name  of  "  Fitz- James ;  "  so  that  his  family  name  for  his 
posterity  is  thus  "  Son  of  James  ;  "  as  a  name,  it  is  so  ri- 
diculous in  French,  that  nobody  could  help  laughing  at 
it,  or  being  astonished  at  the  scandal  of  imposing  it  in 
English  upon  France. 

Berwick  having  thus  obtained  his  recompense  be- 
forehand, started  off  for  Flanders,  but  not  until  he 
had  seen  everything  signed  and  sealed  and  delivered  in 
due  form.  He  found  the  enemy  so  advantageously 
placed,  and  so  well  prepared,  that  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  subscribing  to  the  common  opinion  of  the  general 
officers,  that  an  attack  could  no  longer  be  thought  of. 
He  gathered  up  all  the  opinions  he  could,  and  then 
returned  to  Court,  having  been  only  about  three  weeks 
absent.  His  report  dismayed  the  King,  and  those 
who  penetrated  it.  Letters  from  the  army  soon 
showed  the  fault  of  which  Villars  had  been  guilty,  and 
everybody  revolted  against  this  wordy  bully. 

He  soon  after  was  the  subject  of  common  talk  at  the 
Court,  and  in  the  army,  in  consequence  of  a  ridiculous 
adventure,  in  which  he  was  the  hero.  His  wound,  or 
the  airs  that  he  gave  himself  in  consequence  of  it,  often 
forced  him  to  hold  his  leg  upon  the  neck  of  his  horse, 
almost  in  the  same  manner  as  ladies  do.  One  day,  he 
let  slip  the  remark  that  he  was  sick  to  death  of  mount- 
ing on  horseback  like  those  "  harlots  "  in  the  suite  of 
Madame  de  Bourgogne.  Those  "  harlots,"  I  will 


Saint-Simon  325 

observe  parenthetically,  were  all  the  young  ladies  of 
the  Court,  and  the  daughters  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  ! 
Such  a  remark  uttered  by  a  general  not  much  loved, 
speedily  flew  from  one  end  of  the  camp  to  the  other, 
and  was  not  long  in  making  its  way  to  the  Court  and  to 
Paris.  The  young  horsewomen  alluded  to  were 
offended;  their  friends  took  up  arms  for  them,  and 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  could  not  help 
showing  irritation,  or  avoid  complaining. 

Yillars  was  apprised  of  all,  and  was  much  troubled  by 
this  increase  of  enemies  so  redoubtable,  of  whom  just 
then  he  assuredly  had  no  need.  He  took  it  into  his 
head  to  try  and  discover  who  had  blabbed  ;  and  found 
it  was  Heudicourt,  whom  Yillars,  to  advance  his  own 
interests,  by  means  of  Heudicourt's  mother  (who  was 
the  evil  genius  of  Madame  de  Maintenon),  had  pro- 
tected ;  and  to  whom  even,  much  against  his  custom,  he 
had  actually  not  lent,  but  given  money. 

This  Heudicourt  (whom  I  have  previously  alluded 
to,  a  propos  of  a  song  he  wrote),  was  a  merry  wag,  who 
excelled  in  making  fun  of  people,  in  highly-seasoned 
pleasantry,  and  in  comic  songs.  Spoiled  by  the  favour 
which  had  always  sustained  him,  he  gave  full  licence 
to  his  tongue,  and  by  this  audacity  had  rendered  himself 
redoubtable.  He  was  a  scurrilous  wretch,  a  great 
drunkard,  and  a  debauchee ;  not  at  all  cowardly,  and 
with  a  face  hideous  as  that  of  an  ugly  satyr.  He  was 
not  insensible  to  this  ;  and  so,  unfitted  for  intrigues 
himself,  he  assisted  others  in  them,  and,  by  this  honest 
trade,  had  acquired  many  friends  amongst  the  flower  of 
the  courtiers  of  both  sexes — above  all  with  the  ladies. 
Bv  wav  of  contrast  to  his  wickedness,  he  was  called 


326  Memoirs  of 

"  the  good  little  fellow ;  "  and  "  the  good  little  fellow  " 
was  mixed  up  in  all  intrigues ;  the  ladies  of  the  Court 
positively  struggled  for  him ;  and  not  one  of  them, 
even  of  the  highest  ranks,  would  have  dared  to  fall  out 
with  him.  Thus  protected,  he  was  rather  an  embar- 
rassing customer  for  Marechal  de  Villars,  who,  never- 
theless, falling  back  as  usual  upon  his  effrontery,  hit 
upon  a  bright  project  to  bring  home  to  Heudicourt  the 
expedient  he  had  against  him. 

He  collected  together  about  fifteen  general  officers, 
and  Heudicourt  with  them.  When  they  had  all 
arrived,  he  left  his  chamber,  and  went  to  them.  A 
number  of  loiterers  had  gathered  round.  This  was 
just  what  Villars  wanted.  He  asked  all  the  officers  in 
turn,  if  they  remembered  hearing  him  utter  the  ex- 
pression attributed  to  him.  Albergotti  said  he  remem- 
bered to  have  heard  Villars  apply  the  term  "  harlots  " 
to  the  suttlers  and  the  camp  creatures,  but  never  to  any 
other  woman.  All  the  rest  followed  in  the  same  track. 
Then  Villars,  after  letting  out  against  this  frightful  cal- 
umny, and  against  the  impostor  who  had  written  and 
sent  it  to  the  Court,  addressed  himself  to  Heudicourt, 
whom  he  treated  in  the  most  cruel  fashion.  :<  The 
good  little  fellow  "  was  strangely  taken  aback,  and 
wished  to  defend  himself;  but  Villars  produced  proofs 
that  could  not  be  contradicted.  Thereupon  the  ill- 
favoured  dog  avowed  his  turpitude,  and  had  the  audac- 
ity to  approach  Villars  in  order  to  speak  low  to  him ; 
but  the  Marechal,  drawing  back,  and  repelling  him 
with  an  air  of  indignation,  said  to  him  aloud,  that  with 
scoundrels  like  him  he  wished  for  no  privacy.  Gather- 
ing up  his  pluck  at  this,  Heudicourt  gave  rein  to  all  his 


Saint-Simon  327 

impudence,  and  declared  that  they  who  had  been  ques- 
tioned had  not  dared  to  own  the  truth  for  fear  of 
offending  the  Marechal ;  that  as  for  himself  he  might 
have  been  wrong  in  speaking  and  writing  about  it,  but 
he  had  not  imagined  that  words  said  before  such  a 
numerous  company,  and  in  such  a  public  place,  could 
remain  secret,  or  that  he  had  done  more  harm  in  writ- 
ing about  them  than  so  many  others  who  had  acted 
likewise. 

The  Marechal,  outraged  upon  hearing  so  bold  and 
so  truthful  a  reply,  let  out  with  greater  violence  than 
ever  against  Heudicourt,  accused  him  of  ingratitude 
and  villainy,  drove  him  away,  and  a  few  minutes  after 
had  him  arrested  and  conducted  as  a  prisoner  to  the 
chateau  at  Calais.  This  violent  scene  made  as  much 
stir  at  the  Court  and  in  the  army  as  that  which  had 
caused  it.  The  consistent  and  public  conduct  of 
Villars  was  much  approved.  The  King  declared  that  he 
left  Heudicourt  in  his  hands :  Madame  de  Maintenon 
and  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  that  they  abandoned  him  : 
and  his  friends  avowed  that  his  fault  was  inexcusable. 
But  the  tide  soon  turned.  After  the  first  hubbub,  the 
excuse  of  "  the  good  little  fellow  "  appeared  excellent 
to  the  ladies  who  had  their  reasons  for  liking  him  and 
for  fearing  to  irritate  him  ;  and  also  to  the  army,  where 
the  Marechal  was  not  liked.  Several  of  the  officers 
who  had  been  publicly  interrogated  by  Yillars,  now 
admitted  that  they  had  been  taken  by  surprise,  and  had 
not  wished  to  compromise  themselves.  It  was  even, 
going  into  base  details,  argued  that  the  Marechal's  ex- 
pression could  not  apply  to  the  vivandieres  and  the 
other  camp  women,  as  they  always  rode  astride,  one  leg 


328  Saint-Simon 

on  this  side  one  leg  on  the  other,  like  men,  a  manner 
very  different  from  that  of  the  ladies  of  Madame  de 
Bourgogne.  People  contested  the  power  of  a  general 
to  deal  out  justice  upon  his  inferiors  for  personal  mat- 
ters in  which  the  service  was  in  no  wise  concerned ;  in 
a  word,  Heudicourt  was  soon  let  out  of  Calais,  and 
remained  "  the  good  little  fellow  "  in  fashion  in  spite  of 
the  Marechal,  who,  tormented  by  so  many  things  this 
campaign,  sought  for  and  obtained  permission  to  go 
and  take  the  waters ;  and  did  so.  He  was  succeeded 
by  Harcourt,  who  was  himself  in  weak  health.  Thus 
one  cripple  replaced  another.  One  began,  the  other 
ended,  at  Bourbonne. 

Douai,  Saint-Yenant,  and  Aire  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy  during  this  campaign,  who  thus  gained 
upon  us  more  and  more,  while  we  did  little  or  nothing. 
This  was  the  last  campaign  in  Flanders  of  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough.  On  the  Rhine  our  troops  observed 
and  subsisted :  nothing  more ;  but  in  Spain  there  was 
more  movement,  and  I  will  therefore  turn  my  glances 
towards  that  country,  and  relate  what  took  place  there. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Duchesse  de  Berry  Drunk — Operations  in  Spain — Vendome 
Demanded  by  Spain — His  Affront  by  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne — His  Arrival — Staremberg  and  Stanhope — The  Flag 
of  Spain  Leaves  Madrid — Entry  of  the  Archduke — Enthusi- 
asm of  the  Spaniards — The  King  Returns — Strategy  of 
Staremberg— Affair  of  Brighuega — Battle  of  Villaviciosa — 
Its  Consequences  to  Vendome  and  to  Spain. 

BEFORE  I  commence  speaking  of  the  affairs  of 
Spain,  let  me  pass  lightly  over  an  event  which, 
engrafted  upon  some  others,  made  much  noise,  not- 
withstanding the  care  taken  to  stifle  it. 

Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  supped  at  Saint- 
Cloud  one  evening  with  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Berry 
and  others — Madame  de  Saint-Simon  absenting  her- 
self from  the  party.  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Berry 
and  M.  d'Orleans — but  she  more  than  he — got  so 
drunk,  that  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  Madame 
la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  the  rest  of  the  numer- 
ous company  there  assembled,  knew  not  what  to  do. 
M.  le  Due  de  Berry  was  there,  and  him  they  talked 
over  as  well  as  they  could  ;  and  the  numerous  company 
was  amused  by  the  Grand  Duchess  as  well  as  she 
was  able.  The  effect  of  the  wine,  in  more  ways  than 
one,  was  such,  that  people  were  troubled.  In  spite  of 

329 


330  Memoris  of 

all,  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  could  not  be  sobered,  so 
that  it  became  necessary  to  carry  her,  drunk  as  she 
was,  to  Versailles.  All  the  servants  saw  her  state,  and 
did  not  keep  it  to  themselves ;  nevertheless,  it  was  hid- 
den from  the  King,  from  Monseigneur,  and  from  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon. 

And  now,  having  related  this  incident,  let  me  turn 
to  Spain. 

The  events  which  took  place  in  that  country  were 
so  important,  that  I  have  thought  it  best  to  relate  them 
in  a  continuous  narrative  without  interruption.  We 
must  go  back  to  the  commencement  of  the  year,  and 
remember  the  dangerous  state  which  Spain  was  thrown 
into,  delivered  up  to  her  own  weakness,  France  being 
too  feeble  to  defend  her ;  finding  it  difficult  enough,  in 
fact,  to  defend  herself,  and  willing  to  abandon  her  ally 
entirely  in  the  hope  by  this  means  to  obtain  peace. 

Towards  the  end  of  March  the  King  of  Spain  set  out 
from  Madrid  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  army  in 
Aragon.  Villadarias,  one  of  his  best  and  oldest  gen- 
eral officers,  was  chosen  to  command  under  him.  The 
King  of  Spain  went  from  Saragossa  to  Lerida,  where 
he  was  received  with  acclamations  by  the  people  and 
his  army.  He  crossed  the  Segre  on  the  I4th  of  May, 
and  advanced  towards  Balaguier,  designing  to  lay 
siege  to  it.  But  heavy  rains  falling  and  causing  the 
waters  to  rise,  he  was  obliged  to  abandon  his  project. 
Joined  a  month  afterwards  by  troops  arrived  from 
Flanders,  he  sought  to  attack  the  enemy,  but  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  for  the  moment  by  scouring 
the  country,  and  taking  some  little  towns  where  the 
Archduke  had  established  stores.  All  this  time  the 


Saint-Simon  331 

Count  of  Staremberg,  who  commanded  the  forces  of 
the  Archduke,  was  ill ;  this  circumstance  the  King  of 
Spain  was  profiting  by.  But  the  Count  grew  well 
again  quicker  than  was  expected ;  promptly  assembled 
his  forces ;  marched  against  the  army  of  the  King  of 
Spain ;  engaged  it,  and  obliged  it,  all  astonished,  to 
retire  under  Saragossa.  This  ill-success  fell  entirely  on 
Yilladarias,  who  was  accused  of  imprudence  and  neg- 
ligence. The  King  of  Spain  was  desperately  in  want  of 
generals,  and  M.  de  Vendome,  knowing  this,  and  sick- 
to  death  of  banishment,  had  asked  some  little  time 
before  to  be  allowed  to  offer  his  services.  At  first  he 
was  snubbed.  But  the  King  of  Spain,  who  eagerly 
wished  for  M.  de  Vendome,  despatched  a  courier,  after 
this  defeat,  begging  the  King  to  allow  him  to  come 
and  take  command.  The  King  held  out  no  longer. 

The  Due  de  Vendome  had  prepared  everything  in 
advance ;  and  having  got  over  a  slight  attack  of  gout, 
hastened  to  Versailles.  M.  du  Maine  had  negotiated 
with  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  obtain  permission  to 
take  Vendome  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  The 
opportunity  seemed  favourable  to  them.  Vendome 
was  going  to  Spain  to  serve  the  brother  and  sister  of 
the  Duchess  ;  and  his  departure  without  seeing  her 
would  have  had  a  very  disagreeable  effect.  The  Due 
du  Maine,  followed  by  Vendome,  came  then  that  day 
to  the  toilette  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  There 
happened  that  there  was  a  very  large  company  of  men 
and  ladies.  The  Duchess  rose  for  them,  as  she  always 
did  for  the  Princes  of  the  blood  and  others,  and  for  all 
the  Dukes  and  Duchesses,  and  sat  down  again  as  usual ; 
but  after  this  first  glance,  wrhich  could  not  be  refused, 


332  Memoirs  of 

she,  though  usually  very  talkative  and  accustomed  to 
look  round,  became  for  once  attentive  to  her  adorn- 
ment, fixed  her  eyes  on  her  mirror,  and  spoke  no  more 
to  any  one.  M.  du  Maine,  with  M.  de  Vendome  stuck 
by  his  side,  remained  very  disconcerted ;  and  M.  du 
Maine,  usually  so  free  and  easy,  dared  not  utter  a 
single  word.  Nobody  went  near  them  or  spoke  to 
them.  They  remained  thus  about  half  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  with  an  universal  silence  throughout  the 
chamber — all  eyes  being  fixed  on  them  ;  and  not  being 
able  to  stand  this  any  longer,  slunk  away.  This  re- 
ception was  not  sufficiently  agreeable  to  induce  Yen- 
dome  to  pay  his  respects  at  parting ;  for  it  would  have 
been  more  embarrassing  still  if,  when  according  to 
custom  he  advanced  to  kiss  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne,  she  had  given  him  the  unheard-of  affront  of  a 
refusal.  As  for  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  he  received 
Vendome  tolerably  politely,  that  is  to  say,  much  too 
well. 

Staremberg  meanwhile  profited  by  the  advantage  he 
had  gained  ;  he  attacked  the  Spanish  army  under  Sara- 
gossa  and  totally  defeated  it.  Artillery,  baggage,  all 
was  lost ;  and  the  rout  was  complete.  This  misfortune 
happened  on  the  2Oth  of  August.  The  King,  who  had 
witnessed  it  from  Saragossa,  immediately  afterwards 
took  the  road  for  Madrid.  Bay,  one  of  his  generals, 
gathered  together  eighteen  thousand  men,  with  whom 
he  retired  to  Tudela,  without  any  impediment  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy. 

M.  de  Yendome  learnt  the  news  of  this  defeat  while 
on  his  way  to  Spain.  Like  a  prudent  man  as  he  was, 
for  his  own  interests,  he  stopped  at  once  so  as  to  see 


Saint-Simon  333 

what  turn  affairs  were  taking,  and  to  know  how  to  act. 
He  waited  at  Bayonne,  gaining  time  there  by  sending 
a  courier  to  the  King  for  instructions  how  to  act,  and 
remaining  until  the  reply  came.  After  its  arrival  he 
set  out  to  continue  his  journey,  and  joined  the  King 
of  Spain  at  Valladolid. 

Staremberg,  after  his  victory,  was  joined  by  the 
Archduke,  and  a  debate  soon  took  place  as  to  the 
steps  next  to  be  taken.  Staremberg  was  for  giving 
battle  to  the  army  of  eighteen  thousand  men  under 
Bay,  which  I  have  just  alluded  to,  beating  it,  and  then 
advancing  little  by  little  into  Spain,  to  make  head 
against  the  vanquished  army  of  the  King.  Had  this 
advice  been  acted  on,  it  could  scarcely  have  failed  to 
ruin  the  King  of  Spain,  and  the  whole  country  must 
have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  But  it  was 
not  acted  on.  Stanhope,  who  commanded  the  Eng- 
lish and  Dutch  troops,  said  that  his  Queen  had  ordered 
him  to  march  upon  Madrid  when  possible,  in  prefer- 
ence to  every  other  place.  He  therefore  proposed 
that  they  should  go  straight  to  Madrid  with  the  Arch- 
duke, proclaim  him  King  there,  and  thus  terrify  all 
Spain  by  seizing  the  capital.  Staremberg,  who  ad- 
mitted that  the  project  was  dazzling,  sustained,  how- 
ever, that  it  was  of  little  use,  and  of  great  clanger.  He 
tried  all  in  his  power  to  shake  the  inflexibility  of  Stan- 
hope, but  in  vain,  and  at  last  was  obliged  to  yield  as 
being  the  feebler  of  the  two.  The  time  lost  in  this 
dispute  saved  the  wreck  of  the  army  which  had  just 
been  defeated.  "What  was  afterwards  done  saved  the 
King  of  Spain. 

When  the  plan  of  the  allies  became  known,  however, 


334  Memoirs  of 

the  consternation  at  Madrid,  which  was  already  great, 
was  extreme.  The  King  resolved  to  withdraw  from  a 
place  which  could  not  defend  itself,  and  to  carry  away 
with  him  the  Queen,  the  Prince,  and  the  Councils. 
The  grandees  declared  that  they  would  follow  the 
King  and  his  fortune  everywhere,  and  very  few  failed 
to  do  so ;  the  departure  succeeded  the  declaration  in 
twenty-four  hours.  The  Queen,  holding  the  Prince 
in  her  arms,  at  a  balcony  of  the  palace,  spoke  to  the 
people  assembled  beneath,  with  so  much  grace,  force, 
and  courage,  that  the  success  she  had  is  incredible. 
The  impression  that  the  people  received  was  communi- 
cated everywhere,  and  soon  gained  all  the  provinces. 
The  Court  thus  left  Madrid  for  the  second  time  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  lamentable  cries,  uttered  from  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts,  by  people  who  came  from  town 
and  country,  and  who  so  wished  to  follow  the  King 
and  Queen  that  considerable  effort  was  required  in 
order  to  induce  them  to  return,  each  one  to  his  home. 
Valladolid  was  the  retreat  of  this  wretched  Court, 
which  in  the  most  terrible  trouble  it  had  yet  experi- 
enced, lost  neither  judgment  nor  courage.  Mean- 
while the  grandest  and  rarest  example  of  attachment 
and  of  courage  that  had  ever  been  heard  of  or  seen 
was  seen  in  Spain.  Prelates  and  the  humblest  of  the 
clergy,  noblemen  and  the  poorest  people,  lawyers  and 
artisans  all  bled  themselves  of  the  last  drop  of  their 
substance,  in  order  to  form  new  troops  and  magazines, 
and  to  provide  all  kinds  of  provisions  for  the  Court, 
and  those  who  had  followed  it.  Never  nation  made 
more  efforts  so  surprising  with  a  unanimity  and  a 
concert  which  acted  everywhere  at  once.  The  Queen 


Saint-Simon  335 

sold  off  all  she  possessed,  received  with  her  own  hands 
sometimes  even  as  little  as  ten  pistoles,  in  order  to 
content  the  zeal  of  those  who  brought,  and  thanked 
them  with  as  much  affection  as  they  themselves  dis- 
played. She  would  continually  say  that  she  should 
like  to  put  herself  at  the  head  of  her  troops,  with  her 
son  in  her  arms.  With  this  language  and  her  conduct, 
she  gained  all  hearts,  and  was  very  useful  in  such  a 
strange  extremity. 

The  Archduke  meanwhile  arrived  in  Madrid  with 
his  army.  He  entered  there  in  triumph,  and  caused 
himself  to  be  proclaimed  King  of  Spain,  by  the  vio- 
lence of  his  troops,  who  dragged  the  trembling  Cor- 
regidor  through  the  streets,  which  for  the  most  part 
were  deserted,  whilst  the  majority  of  the  houses  were 
without  inhabitants,  the  few  who  remained  having 
barricaded  their  doors  and  windows,  and  shut  them- 
selves up  in  the  most  remote  places,  where  the  troops 
did  not  dare  to  break  in  upon  them,  for  fear  of  increas- 
ing the  visible  and  general  despair,  and  in  the  hope  of 
gaining  by  gentleness.  The  entry  of  the  Archduke 
was  not  less  sad  than  his  proclamation.  A  few  scarcely 
audible  and  feeble  acclamations  were  heard,  but  were 
so  forced  that  the  Archduke,  sensibly  astonished,  made 
them  cease  of  himself.  He  did  not  dare  to  lodge  in 
the  palace,  or  in  the  centre  of  Madrid,  but  slept  at  the 
extremity  of  the  city,  and  even  there  only  for  two  or 
three  nights.  Scarcely  any  damage  was  inflicted  upon 
the  town.  Staremberg  was  careful  to  gain  over  the 
inhabitants  by  conciliation  and  clemency ;  yet  his  army 
perished  of  all  kinds  of  misery.  Not  a  single  person 
could  be  found  to  supply  it  with  subsistence  for  man 


336  Memoirs  of 

or  beast — not  even  when  offered  money.  Prayers, 
menaces,  executions,  all  were  perfectly  useless.  There 
was  not  a  Castilian  who  would  not  have  believed  him- 
self dishonoured  in  selling  the  least  thing  to  the  ene- 
mies, or  in  allowing  them  to  take  it.  It  is  thus  that 
this  magnanimous  people,  without  any  other  help  than 
their  courage  and  their  fidelity,  sustained  themselves 
in  the  midst  of  their  enemies,  whose  army  they  caused 
to  perish,  while  at  the  same  time,  by  inconceivable 
prodigies,  they  formed  a  new  army  for  themselves, 
perfectly  equipped  and  furnished,  and  put  thus,,  by 
themselves,  alone,  and  for  the  second  time,  the  crown 
upon  the  head  of  their  King,  with  a  glory  for  ever  an 
example  to  all  the  people  of  Europe ;  so  true  it  is  that 
nothing  approaches  the  strength  which  is  found  in  the 
heart  of  a  nation  for  the  succour  and  re-establishment 
of  kings  !* 

Stanhope,  who  had  not  failed  to  see  the  excellence  of 
Staremberg's  advice  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
dispute,  now  said  insolently,  that  having  executed  the 
orders  of  his  Queen,  it  was  for  Staremberg  to  draw  the 
army  out  of  its  embarrassment.  As  for  himself,  he 
had  nothing  more  to  do  in  the  matter!  When  ten  or 
twelve  days  had  elapsed,  it  \vas  resolved  to  remove 
from  Madrid  towards  Toledo.  From  the  former  place 
nothing  was  taken  away,  except  some  of  the  King's 
tapestry,  which  Stanhope  was  not  ashamed  to  carry  oft", 
but  which  he  did  not  long  keep.  This  act  of  meanness 

*  This  is  a  wiser  observation,  perhaps,  than  Saint-Simon  thought. 
Human  nature  is  too  apt  to  attribute  its  degradation  to  external  vio- 
lence, and  to  forget  that  the  strongest  allies  of  those  that  enslave  it  are 
found  within  its  own  breast. 


Saint-Simon  337 

was  blamed  even  by  his  own  countrymen.*  Starem- 
berg  did  not  make  a  long  stay  at  Toledo,  but  in  quitting 
the  town,  burnt  the  superb  palace  in  the  Moorish  style 
that  Charles  Quint  had  built  there,  and  that  was  called 
the  Alcazar.  This  was  an  irreparable  damage,  which 
he  made  believe  happened  accidentally. 

As  nothing  now  hindered  the  King  of  Spain  from 
going  to  see  his  faithful  subjects  at  Madrid,  he  entered 
that  city  on  the  2nd  of  December,  in  the  midst  of  an 
infinite  crowd  and  incredible  acclamations.  He  de- 
scended at  the  church  of  Xotre  Dame  d'Atocha,  and 
was  three  hours  in  arriving  at  the  palace,  so  prodigious 
was  the  crowd.  The  city  made  a  present  to  him  of 
twenty  thousand  pistoles.  On  the  fourth  day  after  his 
arrival  at  Madrid,  the  King  left,  in  order  to  join  M.  de 
Yendome  and  his  army. 

But  a  little  while  before,  this  monarch  was  a  fugitive 
wanderer,  almost  entirely  destroyed,  without  troops, 
without  money,  and  without  subsistence.  Xow  he 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  ten  or  fifteen  thousand 
men  well  armed,  well  clad,  well  paid,  with  provisions, 
money,  and  ammunition  in  abundance  ;  and  this  magi- 
cal change  was  brought  about  by  the  sudden  universal 
conspiracy  of  the  unshakable  fidelity  and  attachment 
without  example,  of  all  the  orders  of  his  subjects  ;  by 
their  efforts  and  their  industry,  as  prodigious  the  one 
as  the  other. 

Yendome,  in  the  utmost  surprise  at  a  change  so  little 

*  It  would  be  unjust  not  to  notice  here,  accepting  Saint-Simon's  state- 
ment of  facts,  that  the  French  always  indignantly  point  out  the  gathering 
of  art-booty  by  English  and  other  generals;  but  can  find  nothing  save 
words  of  praise  for  the  immense  spoliations  of  this  kind  which  they  have 
themselves  committed. 

VOL.  II. — 22 


338  Memoirs  of 

to  be  hoped  for,  wished  to  profit  by  it  by  joining  the 
army  under  Bay,  which  was  too  weak  itself  to  appear 
before  Staremberg.  Vendome  accordingly  set  about 
making  this  junction,  which  Staremberg  thought  only 
how  to  hinder.  He  knew  well  the  Due  de  Vendome. 
In  Savoy  he  had  gained  many  a  march  upon  him  ;  had 
passed  five  rivers  in  front  of  him ;  and  in  spite  of  him 
had  led  his  troops  to  M.  de  Savoie.  Staremberg 
thought  only  therefore  in  what  manner  he  could  lay  a 
trap  for  M.  de  Vendome,  in  which  he,  with  his  army, 
might  fall  and  break  his  neck  without  hope  of  escape. 
With  this  view  he  put  his  army  into  quarters,  access  to 
which  was  easy  everywhere,  which  were  near  each 
other,  and  which  could  assist  each  other  in  case  of 
need,  lie  then  placed  all  his  English  and  Dutch,  Stan- 
hope at  their  head,  in  Brighuega,  a  little  fortified  town 
in  good  condition  for  defence.  It  was  at  the  head  of 
all  the  quarters  of  Staremberg's  army,  and  at  the  en- 
trance of  a  plain  over  which  M.  de  Vendome  had  to 
pass  to  join  Bay. 

Staremberg  was  on  the  point  of  being  joined  by  his 
army  of  Estremadura,  so  that  in  the  event  of  M.  de 
Vendome  attacking  Brighuega,  as  he  hoped,  he  had  a 
large  number  of  troops  to  depend  upon. 

Vendome,  meanwhile,  set  out  on  his  march.  He 
was  informed  of  Staremberg's  position,  but  in  a  man- 
ner just  such  as  Staremberg  wished;  that  is  to  say,  he 
was  led  to  believe  that  Stanhope  had  made  a  wrong 
move  in  occupying  Brighuega,  that  he  was  too  far  re- 
moved from  Staremberg  to  receive  any  assistance  from 
him,  and  that  he  could  be  easily  overpowered.  That  is 
how  matters  appeared  to  Vendome.  He  hastened  his 


Saint-Simon  339 

march,  therefore,  made  his  dispositions,  and  on  the  8th 
of  December,  after  mid-day,  approached  Brighuega, 
called  upon  it  to  surrender,  and  upon  its  refusal,  pre- 
pared to  attack  it. 

Immediately  afterwards  his  surprise  was  great,  upon 
discovering  that  there  were  so  many  troops  in  the  town, 
and  that  instead  of  having  to  do  with  a  mere  outpost, 
he  was  engaged  against  a  place  of  some  consequence. 
He  did  not  wish  to  retire,  and  perhaps  he  could  not 
have  done  so  with  impunity.  He  set  to,  therefore, 
storming  in  his  usual  manner,  and  did  what  he  could 
to  excite  his  troops  to  make  short  work  of  a  conquest 
so  different  from  what  he  had  imagined,  and  so  dan- 
gerous to  delay. 

Nevertheless,  the  weight  of  his  mistake  pressed  upon 
him  as  the  hours  passed  and  he  saw  fresh  enemies  ar- 
rive. Two  of  his  assaults  had  failed :  he  determined 
to  play  at  double  or  quits,  and  ordered  a  third  assault. 
While  the  dispositions  were  being  made,  on  the  9th  of 
December  he  learnt  that  Staremberg  was  marching 
against  him  with  four  or  five  thousand  men,  that  is  to 
say,  with  just  about  half  of  what  he  really  led.  In  this 
anguish,  Vendome  did  not  hesitate  to  stake  even  the 
Crown  of  Spain  upon  the  hazard  of  the  die.  His  third 
attack  was  made  with  all  the  force  of  which  he  was 
capable.  Every  one  of  the  assailants  knew  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  danger,  and  behaved  with  so  much 
valour  and  impetuosity,  that  the  town  was  carried  in 
spite  of  an  obstinate  resistance.  The  besieged  were 
obliged  to  yield,  and  to  the  number  of  eight  battalions 
and  eight  squadrons,  surrendered  themselves  prison- 
ers of  war,  and  with  them,  Stanhope,  their  general, 


34-Q  Memoirs  of 

who  so  triumphant  in  Madrid,  was  here  obliged  to 
disgorge  the  King's  tapestries  that  he  had  taken  from 
the  palace. 

While  the  capitulation  was  being  made,  various  in- 
formation came  to  Vendome  of  Staremberg's  march, 
which  it  was  necessary,  above  all,  to  hide  from  the 
prisoners,  who,  had  they  known  their  liberator  was 
only  a  league  and  a  half  distant  from  them,  as  he  was 
then,  would  have  broken  the  capitulation,  and  defended 
themselves.  M.  de  Vendome's  embarrassment  was 
great.  He  had,  at  the  same  time,  to  march  out 
and  meet  Staremberg  and  to  get  rid  of  his  numerous 
prisoners.  All  was  done,  however,  very  successfully. 
Sufficient  troops  were  left  in  Brighuega  to  attend  to 
the  evacuation,  and  when  it  was  at  an  end,  those  troops 
left  the  place  themselves  and  joined  their  comrades, 
who,  with  M.  de  Vendome,  were  waiting  for  Starem- 
berg outside  the  town,  at  Villaviciosa,  a  little  place 
that  afterwards  gave  its  name  to  the  battle.  Only  four 
hundred  men  were  left  in  Brighuega. 

M.  de  Vendome  arranged  his  army  in  order  of  battle 
in  a  tolerably  open  plain,  but  embarrassed  by  little 
knolls  in  several  places,  very  disadvantageous  for  the 
cavalry.  Immediately  afterwards  the  cannon  began 
to  fire  on  both  sides,  and  almost  immediately  the  two 
lines  of  the  King  of  Spain  prepared  to  charge.  After 
the  battle  had  proceeded  some  time,  M.  de  Vendome 
perceived  that  his  centre  began  to  give  way,  and  that 
the  left  of  his  cavalry  could  not  break  the  right  of  the 
enemies'.  He  thought  all  was  lost,  and  gave  orders 
accordingly  to  his  men  to  retire  towards  Torija. 
Straightway,  too,  he  directed  himself  in  that  direction, 


Saint-Simon  341 

with  the  King  of  Spain  and  a  good  part  of  his  troops. 
While  thus  retreating,  he  learnt  that  two  of  his  offi- 
cers had  charged  the  enemy's  infantry  with  the  cav- 
alry they  had  at  their  orders,  had  much  knocked  it 
about,  and  had  rendered  themselves  masters,  on  the 
field  of  battle,  of  a  large  number  of  prisoners,  and  of 
the  artillery  that  the  enemy  had  abandoned.  News 
so  agreeable  and  so  little  expected  determined  the  Due 
cle  Vendome  and  the  King  of  Spain  to  return  to  the 
battle  with  the  troops  that  had  followed  them.  The 
day  was,  in  fact,  won  just  as  night  came  on.  The 
enemies  abandoned  twenty  pieces  of  cannon,  two 
mortars,  their  wounded  and  their  equipages  ;  and  num- 
bers of  them  were  taken  prisoners.  But  Staremberg, 
having  all  the  night  to  himself,  succeeded  in  retiring  in 
good  order  with  seven  or  eight  thousand  men.  His 
baggage  and  the  majority  of  his  waggons  fell  a  prey 
to  the  vanquisher.  Counting  the  garrison  of  Brig- 
huega,  the  loss  to  the  enemy  was  eleven  thousand 
men  killed  or  taken,  their  ammunition,  artillery, 
baggage,  and  a  great  number  of  flags  and  standards. 
When  we  consider  the  extreme  peril  the  Crown  of 
Spain  ran  in  these  engagements,  and  that  this  time,  if 
things  had  gone  ill  there  was  no  resource,  we  tremble 
still.  Had  a  catastrophe  happened,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  hope  from  France.  Its  exhaustion  and  its 
losses  would  not  have  enabled  it  to  lend  aid.  In  its 
desire  for  peace,  in  fact,  it  would  have  hailed  the  loss 
of  the  Spanish  Crown  as  a  relief.  The  imprudence, 
therefore,  of  M.  de  Vendome  in  so  readily  falling  into 
the  snare  laid  for  him,  is  all  the  more  to  be  blamed. 
He  takes  no  trouble  to  inform  himself  of  the  disposi- 


342  Memoirs  of 

tions  of  the  enemy ;  he  comes  upon  a  place  which  he 
believes  a  mere  post,  but  soon  sees  it  contains  a  numer- 
ous garrison,  and  finds  that  the  principal  part  of  the 
enemy's  army  is  ready  to  fall  upon  him  as  he  makes 
the  attack.  Then  he  begins  to  see  in  what  ship  he  has 
embarked ;  he  sees  the  double  peril  of  a  double  action 
to  sustain  against  Stanhope,  whom  he  must  overwhelm 
by  furious  assault,  and  against  Staremberg,  whom  he 
must  meet  and  defeat;  or  leave  to  the  enemies  the 
Crown  of  Spain,  and  perhaps  the  person  of  Philip  V., 
as  price  of  his  folly.  Brighuega  is  gained,  but  it  is 
without  him.  Villaviciosa  is  gained,  but  it  is  also 
without  him.  This  hero  is  not  sharp-sighted  enough 
to  see  success  when  it  comes.  He  thinks  it  defeat,  and 
gives  orders  for  retreat.  When  informed  that  the  bat- 
tle is  gained,  he  returns  to  the  field,  and  as  daylight 
comes,  perceives  the  fact  to  be  so.  He  is  quite  with- 
out shame  for  his  stupid  mistake,  and  cries  out  that 
he  has  vanquished,  with  an  impudence  to  which  the 
Spaniards  were  not  accustomed ;  and,  to  conclude,  he 
allows  Staremberg's  army  to  get  clean  off,  instead  of 
destroying  it  at  once,  as  he  might  have  done,  and  so 
finished  the  war.  Such  were  the  exploits  of  this  great 
warrior,  so  desired  in  Spain  to  resuscitate  it,  and  such 
were  the  first  proofs  of  his  capacity  upon  arriving  in 
that  country !  * 

*  Despite  Vendome's  abominable  character,  it  cannot  but  be  evident 
that  Saint-Simon  here  gives  way  to  his  hatred,  and  carps  unjustifiably. 
If  we  were  to  deprive  a  general  of  the  benefit  of  the  chances  of  war, 
and  duly  separate  from  surrounding  circumstances  what  is  due  to  his 
own  unaided  genius,  how  many  modern  heroes  would  dwindle  to  no 
better  than  scarecrows!  As  to  the  effect  of  Vendome's  conduct  at  Court 
and  on  the  mind  of  the  King,  it  is  perfectly  indifferent.  Defeats  formerly 
made  him  a  hero;  victories  now  prove  him  a  fool.  This  is  perhaps  the  most 
striking  instance  in  the  whole  of  Saint-Simon's  Memoirs  of  the  absolute 
nullity  of  this  Great  Louis  XIV. 


Saint-Simon  343 

At  the  moment  that  the  King  of  Spain  was  led  back 
to  the  battle-field  by  Yendome,  and  that  they  could 
no  longer  doubt  their  good  fortune,  he  sent  a  courier 
to  the  Queen.  Her  mortal  anguish  was  on  the  instant 
changed  into  so  great  a  joy,  that  she  went  out  imme- 
diately on  foot  into  the  streets  of  Yittoria,  where  all 
was  delight ;  as  it  soon  was  over  all  Spain.  The  news 
of  the  victory  was  brought  to  the  King  (of  France)  by 
Don  Gaspard  de  Zuniga,  who  gave  an  exact  account 
of  all  that  had  occurred,  hiding  nothing  respecting 
M.  de  Yendome,  who  was  thus  unmasked  and  dis- 
graced, in  spite  of  every  effort  on  the  part  of  his  cabal 
to  defend  him. 

Among  the  allies,  all  the  blame  of  this  defeat  fell 
upon  Stanhope.  Seven  or  eight  hours  more  of  resist- 
ance on  his  part  at  Brighuega  would  have  enabled 
Staremberg  to  come  up  to  his  assistance,  and  all  the 
resources  of  Spain  would  then  have  been  annihilated. 
Staremberg,  outraged  at  the  ill-success  of  his  under- 
taking, cried  out  loudly  against  Stanhope.  Some  of 
the  principal  officers  who  had  been  at  Brighuega  sec- 
onded these  complaints.  Stanhope  even  did  not  dare 
to  deny  his  fault.  He  was  allowed  to  demand  leave 
of  absence  to  go  home  and  defend  himself.  He  was 
badly  received,  stripped  of  all  military  rank  in  Eng- 
land and  Holland,  and  (as  well  a?  the  officers  under 
him)  was  not  without  fear  of  his  degradation,  and  was 
even  in  danger  of  his  life. 

This  recital  of  the  events  that  took  place  in  Spain 
has  led  me  away  from  other  matters  of  earlier  date. 
It  is  time  now  that  I  should  return  to  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

State  of  the  Country — New  Taxes — The  King's  Conscience 
Troubled — Decision  of  the  Sorbonne — Debate  in  the  Coun- 
cil— Effect  of  the  Royal  Tithe — Tax  on  Agioteurs — Merri- 
ment at  Court — Death  of  a  Son  o'f  Marechal  Boufflers — The 
Jesuits. 

A  LTHOUGH,  as  we  have  just  seen,  matters  were 
/~\  beginning  to  brighten  a  little  in  Spain,  they  re- 
mained as  dull  and  overcast  as  ever  in  France.  The 
impossibility  of  obtaining  peace,  and  the  exhaustion 
of  the  realm,  threw  the  King  into  the  most  cruel 
anguish,  and  Desmarets  into  the  saddest  embarrass- 
ment. The  paper  of  all  kinds  with  which  trade  was 
inundated,  and  which  had  all  more  or  less  lost  credit, 
made  a  chaos  for  which  no  remedy  could  be  perceived. 
State-bills,  bank-bills,  receiver-general's-bills,  title- 
bills,  utensil-bills,  were  the  ruin  of  private  people,  who 
were  forced  by  the  King  to  take  them  in  payment,  and 
who  lost  half,  two-thirds,  and  sometimes  more,  by  the 
transaction.  This  depreciation  enriched  the  money 
people,  at  the  expense  of  the  public;  and  the  circula- 
tion of  money  ceased,  because  there  was  no  longer  any 
money;  because  the  King  no  longer  paid  anybody,  but 
drew  his  revenues  still;  and  because  all  the  specie  out 

344 


Saint-Simon  345 

of  his  control  was  locked  up  in  the  coffers  of  the  pos- 
sessors. 

The  capitation  tax  was  doubled  and  trebled,  at  the 
will  of  the  Intendants  of  the  Provinces ;  merchandise 
and  all  kinds  of  provision  were  taxed  to  the  amount 
of  four  times  their  value;  new  taxes  of  all  kinds  and 
upon  all  sorts  of  things  were  exacted;  all  this  crushed 
nobles  and  roturiers,  lords  and  clergy,  and  yet  did  not 
bring  enough  to  the  King,  who  drew  the  blood  of  all 
his  subjects,  squeezed  out  their  very  marrow,  without 
distinction,  and  who  enriched  an  army  of  tax-gather- 
ers and  officials  of  all  kinds,  in  whose  hands  the  best 
part  of  what  was  collected  remained. 

Desmarets,  in  whom  the  King  had  been  forced  to 
put  all  his  confidence  in  finance  matters,  conceived  the 
idea  of  establishing,  in  addition  to  so  many  taxes,  that 
Royal  Tithe  upon  all  the  property  of  each  community 
and  of  each  private  person  of  the  realm,  that  the  Mare- 
chal  de  Yauban,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Boisguilbert  on 
the  other,  had  formerly  proposed;  but,  as  I  have  al- 
ready described,  as  a  simple  and  sole  tax  which  would 
suffice  for  all,  which  would  all  enter  the  coffers  of  the 
King,  and  by  means  of  which  every  other  impost  would 
be  abolished. 

\Ye  have  seen  what  success  this  proposition  met 
with;  how  the  financiers  trembled  at  it;  how  the  min- 
isters blushed  at  it,  with  what  anathemas  it  was  reject- 
ed, and  to  what  extent  these  two  excellent  and  skilful 
citizens  were  disgraced.  All  this  must  be  recollected 
here,  since  Desmarets,  who  had  not  lost  sight  of  this 
system  (not  as  relief  and  remedy — unpardonable  crimes 
in  the  financial  doctrine),  now  had  recourse  to  it. 


346  Memoirs  of 

He  imparted  his  project  to  three  friends,  Councillors 
of  State,  who  examined  it  well,  and  worked  hard  to 
see  how  to  overcome  the  obstacles  which  arose  in  the 
way  of  its  execution.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  collect  this  tax,  to  draw  from  each 
person  a  clear  statement  of  his  wealth,  of  his  debts, 
and  so  on.  It  was  necessary  to  demand  sure  proofs 
on  these  points  so  as  not  to  be  deceived.  Here  was 
all  the  difficulty.  Nothing  was  thought  of  the  desola- 
tion this  extra  impost  must  cause  to  a  prodigious  num- 
ber of  men,  or  of  their  despair  upon  finding  themselves 
obliged  to  disclose  their  family  secrets;  to  have  a  lamp 
thrown,  as  it  were,  upon  their  most  delicate  parts;  all 
these  things,  I  say,  went  for  nothing.  Less  than  a 
month  sufficed  these  humane  commissioners  to  render 
an  account  of  this  gentle  project  to  the  Cyclop  who 
had  charged  them  with  it.  Desmarets  thereupon  pro- 
posed it  to  the  King,  who,  accustomed  as  he  was  to 
the  most  ruinous  imposts,  could  not  avoid  being  terri- 
fied at  this.  For  a  long  while  he  had  heard  nothing 
talked  of  but  the  most  extreme  misery;  this  increase 
saddened  him  in  a  manner  so  evident,  that  his  valets 
perceived  it  several  days  running,  and  were  so  dis- 
turbed at  it,  that  Marechal  (who  related  all  this  curious 
anecdote  to  me)  made  bold  to  speak  to  the  King  upon 
this  sadness,  fearing  for  his  health.  The  King  avowed 
to  him  that  he  felt  infinite  trouble,  and  threw  himself 
vaguely  upon  the  state  of  affairs.  Eight  or  ten  days 
after  (during  which  he  continued  to  feel  the  same  mel- 
ancholy), the  King  regained  his  usual  calmness,  and 
called  Marechal  to  explain  the  cause  of  his  trouble. 

The  King  related  to  Marechal  that  the  extremity  of 


Saint-Simon  347 

his  affairs  had  forced  him  to  put  on  furious  imposts; 
that  setting  aside  compassion,  scruples  had  much  tor- 
mented him  for  taking  thus  the  wealth  of  his  sub- 
jects; that  at  last  he  had  unbosomed  himself  to  the  Pere 
Tellier,  who  had  asked  for  a  few  days  to  think  upon 
the  matter,  and  that  he  had  returned  after  having  had  a 
consultation  with  some  of  the  most  skilful  doctors 
of  the  Sorbonne,  who  had  decided  that  all  the  wealth 
of  his  subjects  was  his,  and  that  when  he  took  it  he 
only  took  what  belonged  to  him!  The  King  added, 
that  this  decision  had  taken  away  all  his  scruples,  and 
had  restored  to  him  the  calm  and  tranquillity  he  had 
lost.  Marechal  was  so  astonished,  so  bewildered  to 
hear  this  recital,  that  he  could  not  offer  one  word. 
Happily  for  him,  the  King  quitted  him  almost  immedi- 
ately, and  Marechal  remained  some  time  in  the  same 
place,  scarcely  knowing  where  he  was.* 

After  the  King  had  been  thus  satisfied  by  his  con- 
fessor, no  time  was  lost  in  establishing  the  tax.  On 
Tuesday,  the  30th  of  September,  Desmarets  entered  the 
Finance  Council  with  the  necessary  edict  in  his  bag. 

For  some  days  everybody  had  known  of  this  bomb- 
shell in  the  air,  and  had  trembled  with  that  remnant  of 
hope  which  is  founded  only  upon  desire;  all  the  Court 
as  well  as  all  Paris  waited  in  a  dejected  sadness  to  see 
what  would  happen.  People  whispered  to  each  other, 
and  even  when  the  project  was  rendered  public,  no  one 
dared  to  talk  of  it  aloud. 

*  The  consultation  related  in  the  text  is  of  course  only  astonishing 
from  the  clear  manner  in  which  the  monarchical  theory  is  propounded, 
and  from  the  semi-hypocritical  conduct  of  the  King.  Imagine  a  royal 
personage  having  scruples  at  such  an  age,  and  under  such  circum- 
stances! It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  anecdote  with  the  invectives 
of  Estienne  de  la  Boetie,  who  accuses  monarchy  of  this  very  assumption 
that  all  property  belongs  to  it. 


348  Memoirs  of 

On  the  day  above-named,  the  King  brought  forward 
tliis  measure  in  the  Council,  by  saying,  that  the  impos- 
sibility of  obtaining  peace,  and  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
sustaining  the  war,  had  caused  Desmarets  to  look  about 
in  order  to  discover  some  means,  which  should  appear 
good,  of  raising  money;  that  he  had  pitched  upon  this 
tax;  that  he  (the  King),  although  sorry  to  adopt  such 
a  resource,  approved  it,  and  had  no  doubt  the  Council 
would  do  so  likewise,  when  it  was  explained  to  them. 
Desmarets,  in  a  pathetic  discourse,  then  dwelt  upon 
the  reasons  which  had  induced  him  to  propose  this  tax, 
and  afterwards  read  the  edict  through  from  beginning 
to  end  without  interruption. 

No  one  spoke,  moreover,  when  it  was  over,  until  the 
King  asked  D'Aguesseau  his  opinion.  D'Aguesseau 
replied,  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  take  home 
the  edict  and  read  it  through  very  carefully  before  ex- 
pressing an  opinion.  The  King  said  that  D'Aguesseau 
was  right — it  would  take  a  long  time  to  examine  the 
edict — but  after  all,  examination  was  unnecessary,  and 
would  only  be  loss  of  time.  All  remained  silent  again, 
except  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  who,  seduced  by  the 
nephew  of  Colbert,  whom  he  thought  an  oracle  in 
finances,  said  a  few  words  in  favour  of  the  project. 

Thus  was  settled  this  bloody  business,  and  immedi- 
ately after  signed,  sealed,  and  registered,  among  stifled 
sobs,  and  published  amidst  the  most  gentle  but  most 
piteous  complaints.  The  product  of  this  tax  was  noth- 
ing like  so  much  as  had  been  imagined  in  this  bureau 
of  Cannibals  ;  and  the  King  did  not  pay  a  single  far- 
thing more  to  any  one  than  he  had  previously  done. 
Thus  all  the  fine  relief  expected  by  this  tax  ended  in 
smoke. 


Saint-Simon  349 

The  Marechal  cle  Yauban  had  died  of  grief  at  the 
ill-success  of  his  task  and  his  zeal,  as  I  have  related  in 
its  place.  Poor  Boisguilbert,  in  the  exile  his  zeal  had 
brought  him,  was  terribly  afflicted,  to  find  he  had  in- 
nocently given  advice  which  he  intended  for  the  relief 
of  the  State,  but  which  had  been  made  use  of  in  this 
frightful  manner.  Every  man,  without  exception,  saw 
himself  a  prey  to  the  tax-gatherers:  reduced  to  calcu- 
late and  discuss  with  them  his  own  patrimony,  to  re- 
ceive their  signature  and  their  protection  under  the 
most  terrible  pains;  to  show  in  public  all  the  secrets 
of  his  family;  to  bring  into  the  broad  open  daylight 
domestic  turpitudes  enveloped  until  then  in  the  folds 
of  precautions  the  wisest  and  the  most  multiplied. 
Many  had  to  convince  the  tax  agents,  but  vainly,  that 
although  proprietors,  they  did  not  enjoy  the  tenth  part 
of  their  property.  All  Languedoc  offered  to  give  up 
its  entire  wealth,  if  allowed  to  enjoy,  free  from  every 
impost,  the  tenth  part  of  it.  The  proposition  not  only 
was  not  listened  to,  but  was  reputed  an  insult  and  se- 
verely blamed. 

Monseigneur  le  Due  cle  Bourgogne  spoke  openly 
against  this  tax,  and  against  the  finance  people,  who 
lived  upon  the  very  marrow  of  the  people;  spoke  with 
a  just  and  holy  anger  that  recalled  the  memory  of  Saint- 
Louis,  of  Louis  XII.,  father  of  the  People,  and  of  Louis 
the  Just.  Monseigneur,  too,  moved  by  this  indigna- 
tion, so  unusual,  of  his  son,  sided  with  him,  and  showed 
anger  at  so  many  exactions  as  injurious  as  barbarous, 
and  at  so  many  insignificant  men  so  monstrously  en- 
riched with  the  nation's  blood.  Both  father  and  son 
infinitely  surprised  those  who  heard  them,  and  made 


350  Memoirs  of 

themselves  looked  upon  in  some  sort,  as  resources  from 
which  something  might  hereafter  be  hoped  for.  But 
the  edict  was  issued,  and  though  there  might  be  some 
hope  in  the  future,  there  was  none  in  the  present.  And 
no  one  knew  who  was  to  be  the  real  successor  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  how  under  the  next  government  we  were  to 
be  still  more  overwhelmed  than  under  this  one. 

One  result  of  this  tax  was,  that  it  enabled  the  King 
to  augment  all  his  infantry  with  five  men  per  com- 
pany. 

A  tax  was  also  levied  upon  the  usurers,  who  had 
much  gained  by  trafficking  in  the  paper  of  the  King, 
that  is  to  say,  had  taken  advantage  of  the  need  of  those 
to  whom  the  King  gave  this  paper  in  payment.  These 
usurers  are  called  agiotenrs.  Their  mode  was,  ordi- 
narily, to  give,  for  example,  according  as  the  holder 
of  paper  was  more  or  less  pressed,  three  or  four  hun- 
dred francs  (the  greater  part  often  in  provisions),  for  a 
bill  of  a  thousand  francs!  This  game  was  called  agio. 
It  was  said  that  thirty  millions  were  obtained  from  this 
tax.  Many  people  gained  much  by  it;  I  know  not  if 
the  King  was  the  better  treated. 

Soon  after  this  the  coin  was  re-coined,  by  which  great 
profit  was  made  for  the  King,  and  much  wrong  done 
to  private  people  and  to  trade.  In  all  times  it  has  been 
regarded  as  a  very  great  misfortune  to  meddle  with 
corn  and  money.  Desmarets  has  accustomed  us  to 
tricks  with  the  money;  M.  le  Due  and  Cardinal  Fleury 
to  interfere  with  corn  and  to  fictitious  famine. 

At  the  commencement  of  December,  the  King  de- 
clared that  he  wished  there  should  be,  contrary  to  cus- 


Saint-Simon  351 

torn,  plays  and  "  apartments  "  at  Versailles  even  when 
Monseigneur  should  be  at  Meudon.  He  thought  ap- 
parently he  must  keep  his  Court  full  of  amusements, 
to  hide,  if  it  was  possible,  abroad  and  at  home,  the  dis- 
order and  the  extremity  of  affairs.  For  the  same  rea- 
son, the  carnival  was  opened  early  this  season,  and  all 
through  the  winter  there  were  many  balls  of  all  kinds 
at  the  Court,  where  the  wives  of  the  ministers  gave  very 
magnificent  displays,  like  fetes,  to  Madame  la  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  and  to  all  the  Court. 

But  Paris  did  not  remain  less  wretched  or  the  prov- 
inces less  desolated. 

And  thus  I  have  arrived  at  the  end  of  1710.* 
At  the  commencement  of  the  following  year,  1711, 
— that  is  to  say,  a  few  days  after  the  middle  of  March, — 
a  cruel  misfortune  happened  to  the  Marechal  de  Bouf- 
flers.  His  eldest  son  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  hand- 
some, well  made,  of  much  promise,  and  who  succeeded 

*  I  cannot  refrain,  at  the  end  of  this  short  narrative,  containing  so 
terrible  an  exposure  of  the  principles  and  conduct  of  the  Great  King  of 
the  Great  Age,  from  referring  to  the  trite  observation — trite  from  its 
extreme  truth — that  we  have  here  sufficient  explanation,  not  only  of  the 
occurrence,  but  of  the  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution.  We  must 
remember  that,  with  rare  exceptions,  for  a  thousand  years  France  was 
subject  to  tyrants  of  the  same  nature;  and  that  almost  always  when  the 
country  was  not  desolated  by  oppression  and  taxation,  it  was  desolated 
by  bigotry  or  licentiousness.  All  kings  as  such— unless  they  have  been 
taught  to  be  mere  magistrates,  instances  of  which  are  few— look,  as 
Louis  XIV.  did,  upon  the  nation  as  their  property.  This  is  why  they 
not  only  seize  money  wherever  they  can  find  it,  but  interfere  with  every- 
thing from  the  religious  belief,  to  the  wives  and  daughters  of  their  sub- 
jects. A  calculation  has  been  made  that  six  thousand  persons  perished 
by  executions  of  various  kinds  during  the  French  Revolution.  If  we 
compare  this  number  with  the  multitudes  who  suffered  each  famine 
brought  on  by  the  arrangements  of  the  King  and  his  ministers  and  the 
connivance  n{  the  nobility,  we  shall  be  astonished  at  the  clemency  shown 
by  the  people  in  the  hour  of  vengeance  and  triumph. 


352  Memoirs  of 

marvellously  at  the  Court,  when  his  father  presented 
him  there  to  the  King  to  thank  his  Majesty  for  the  re- 
version of  the  government  of  Plow  and  of  Lille.  He 
returned  afterwards  to  the  College  of  the  Jesuits,  where 
he  was  being  educated.  I  know  not  what  youthful 
folly  he  was  guilty  of  with  the  two  sons  of  D'Argenson; 
but  the  Jesuits,  wishing  to  show  that  they  made  no  dis- 
tinction of  persons,  whipped  the  little  lad,  because,  to 
say  the  truth,  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  Mare- 
chal  de  Boufflers;  but  they  took  good  care  to  let  the 
others  off,  although  equally  guilty,  because  they  had 
to  reckon  with  D'Argenson,  lieutenant  of  the  police,  of 
much  credit  in  book  matters,  Jansenism,  and  all  sorts 
of  things  and  affairs  in  which  they  were  interested. 

Little  Boufflers,  who  was  full  of  courage,  and  who 
had  done  no  more  than  the  two  Argensons,  and  with 
them,  was  seized  with  such  despair,  that  he  fell  ill  that 
same  day.  Pie  was  carried  to  the  Marechal's  house, 
but  it  was  impossible  to  save  him.  The  heart  was 
seized,  the  blood  diseased,  the  purples  appeared;  in  four 
days  all  was  over.  The  state  of  the  father  and  mother 
may  be  imagined!  The  King,  who  was  much  touched 
by  it,  did  not  let  them  ask  or  wait  for  him.  He  sent  one 
of  his  gentlemen  to  testify  to  them  the  share  he  had  in 
their  loss,  and  announced  that  he  would  give  to  their 
remaining  son  what  he  had  already  given  to  the  other. 
As  for  the  Jesuits,  the  universal  cry  against  them  was 
prodigious ;  but  that  was  all.  This  would  be  the  place, 
now  that  I  am  speaking  of  the  Jesuits,  to  speak  of  an- 
other affair  in  which  they  were  concerned.  But  I  pass 
over,  for  the  present,  the  dissensions  that  broke  out  at 


Saint-Simon 


353 


about  this  time,  and  that  ultimately  led  to  the  famous 
Papal  Bull  Unigenitus,  so  fatal  to  the  Church  and  to 
the  State,  so  shameful  for  Rome,  and  so  injurious  to 
religion;  and  I  proceed  to  speak  of  the  great  event  of 
this  year  which  led  to  others  so  memorable  and  so  un- 
expected. 


VOL.  II. — 23 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

My  Interview  with  Du  Mont — A  Mysterious  Communication 
— Anger  of  Monseigneur  against  Me — Household  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry — Monseigneur  Taken  111  of  the  Small- 
Pox — Effect  of  the  News — The  King  Goes  to  Meudon — 
The  Danger  Diminishes — Madame  de  Maintenon  at  Meudon 
—The  Court  at  Versailles — Hopes  and  Fears — The  Danger 
Returns — Death  of  Monseigneur — Conduct  of  the  King. 

BUT  in  order  to  understand  the  part  I  played  in  the 
event  I  have  alluded  to  and  the  interest  I  took 
in  it,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  relate  some  personal 
matters  that  occurred  in  the  previous  year.  Du  Mont 
was  one  of  the  confidants  of  Monseigneur;  but  also  had 
never  forgotten  what  his  father  owed  to  mine.  Some 
days  after  the  commencement  of  the  second  voyage  to 
Marly,  subsequently  to  the  marriage  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Berry,  as  I  was  coming  back  from  the  King's  mass, 
the  said  Du  Mont,  in  the  crush  at  the  door  of  the  little 
salon  of  the  chapel,  took  an  opportunity  when  he  was 
not  perceived,  to  pull  me  by  my  coat,  and  when  I  turned 
round  put  a  finger  to  his  lips,  and  pointed  towards  the 
gardens  which  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  that  is 
to  say,  of  that  superb  cascade  which  the  Cardinal  Fleury 
has  destroyed,  and  which  faced  the  rear  of  the  chateau. 
At  the  same  time  Du  Mont  whispered  in  my  ear :  "  To 

354 


Saint-Simon  355 

the  arbours !  "  That  part  of  the  garden  was  surround- 
ed with  arbours  palisaded  so  as  to  conceal  what  was 
inside.  It  was  the  least  frequented  place  at  Marly,  lead- 
ing to  nothing;  and  in  the  afternoon  even,  and  the  even- 
ing, few  people  within  them. 

Uneasy  to  know  what  Du  Mont  wished  to  communi- 
cate with  so  much  mystery,  I  gently  went  towards  the 
arbours  where,  without  being  seen,  I  looked  through 
one  of  the  openings  until  I  saw  him  appear.  He  slipped 
in  by  the  corner  of  the  chapel,  and  I  went  towards  him. 
As  he  joined  me  he  begged  me  to  return  towards  the 
river,  so  as  to  be  still  more  out  of  the  way;  and  then 
we  set  ourselves  against  the  thickest  palisades,  as  far 
as  possible  from  all  openings,  so  as  to  be  still  more  con- 
cealed.* All  this  surprised  and  frightened  me:  I  was 
still  more  so  when  I  learned  what  was  the  matter. 

Du  Mont  then  told  me,  on  condition  that  I  promised 
not  to  show  that  I  knew  it,  and  not  to  make  use  of  my 
knowledge  in  any  way  without  his  consent,  that  two 
days  after  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry,  having 
entered  towards  the  end  of  the  morning  the  cabinet  of 
Monseigneur,  he  found  him  alone,  looking  very  serious. 
He  followed  Monseigneur,  through  the  gardens  alone, 
until  he  entered  by  the  window  the  apartments  of  the 
Princesse  de  Conti,  who  was  also  alone.  As  he  entered 
Monseigneur  said  with  an  air  not  natural  to  him,  and 
very  inflamed — as  if  by  way  of  interrogation — that  she 
"  sat  very  quietly  there."  This  frightened  her  so,  that 
she  asked  if  there  was  any  news  from  Flanders,  and 

*  To  understand  all  this  precaution,  it  is  necessary  to  remember  what 
has  previously  been  told  of  the  company  of  Swiss  spies  set  on  foot  by 
the  King  for  the  gardens  of  Marly.  What  real  man  would  be  a  courtier 
here  on  such  conditions? 


356  Memoirs  of 

what  had  happened.  Monseigneur  answered,  in  a 
tone  of  great  annoyance,  that  there  was  no  news  ex- 
cept that  the  Due  de  Saint-Simon  had  said,  that  now 
that  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry  was  brought 
about,  it  would  be  proper  to  drive  away  Madame  la 
Duchesse  and  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  after  which  it 
would  be  easy  to  govern  "  the  great  imbecile,"  mean- 
ing himself.  This  was  why  he  thought  she  ought  not 
to  be  so  much  at  her  ease.  Then,  suddenly,  as  if  lash- 
ing his  sides  to  get  into  a  greater  rage,  he  spoke  in  a 
way  such  a  speech  would  have  deserved,  added  men- 
aces, said  that  he  would  have  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
to  fear  me,  to  put  me  aside,  and  separate  himself  en- 
tirely from  me.  This  sort  of  soliloquy  lasted  a  long 
time,  and  I  was  not  told  what  the  Princesse  de  Conti 
said  to  it;  but  from  the  silence  of  Du  Mont,  her  an- 
noyance at  the  marriage  I  had  brought  about,  and  other 
reasons,  it  seems  to  me  unlikely  that  she  tried  to  soften 
Monseigneur. 

Du  Mont  begged  me  not,  for  a  long  time  at  least, 
to  show  that  I  knew  what  had  taken  place,  and  to  be- 
have with  the  utmost  prudence.  Then  he  fled  away 
by  the  path  he  had  come  by,  fearing  to  be  seen.  I  re- 
mained walking  up  and  down  in  the  arbour  all  the  time, 
reflecting  on  the  wickedness  of  my  enemies,  and  the 
gross  credulity  of  Monseigneur.  Then  I  ran  away, 
and  escaped  to  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  who,  as  aston- 
ished and  frightened  as  I,  said  not  a  word  of  the  com- 
munication I  had  received. 

I  never  knew  who  had  served  me  this  ill-turn  with 
Monseigneur,  but  I  always  suspected  Mademoiselle  de 
Lillebonne.  After  a  long  time,  having  obtained  with 


Saint-Simon  357 

difficulty  the  consent  of  the  timid  Du  Mont,  I  made 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  speak  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne,  who  undertook  to  arrange  the  affair  as  well 
as  it  could  be  arranged.  The  Duchess  spoke  indeed 
to  Monseigneur,  and  showed  him  how  ridiculously  he 
had  been  deceived,  when  he  was  persuaded  that  I  could 
ever  have  entertained  the  ideas  attributed  to  me.  Mon- 
seigneur admitted  that  he  had  been  carried  away  by 
anger;  and  that  there  was  no  likelihood  that  I  should 
have  thought  of  anything  so  wicked  and  incredible. 

About  this  time  the  house  of  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Berry  was  constituted.  Racilly  obtained  the  splendid 
appointment  of  first  surgeon,  and  was  worthy  of  it;  but 
the  Duchesse  de  Berry  wept  bitterly,  because  she  did 
not  consider  him  of  high  family  enough.  She  was  not 
so  delicate  about  La  Have,  whose  appointment  she  rap- 
idly secured.  The  fellow  looked  in  the  glass  more  com- 
plaisantly  than  ever.  He  was  well  made,  but  stiff,  and 
with  a  face  not  at  all  handsome,  and  looking  as  if  it 
had  been  skinned.  He  was  happy  in  more  ways  than 
one,  and  was  far  more  attached  to  his  new  mistress  than 
to  his  master.  The  King  was  very  angry  when  he 
learned  that  the  Due  de  Berry  had  supplied  himself 
with  such  an  assistant. 

Meantime,  I  continued  on  very  uneasy  terms  with 
Monseigneur,  since  I  had  learned  his  strange  credulity 
with  respect  to  me.  I  began  to  feel  my  position  very 
irksome,  not  to  say  painful,  on  this  account.  Meudon 
I  would  not  go  to — for  me  it  was  a  place  infested  with 
demons — yet  by  stopping  away  I  ran  great  risks  of  los- 
ing the  favour  and  consideration  I  enjoyed  at  Court. 
Monseigneur  was  a  man  so  easily  imposed  upon,  as  I 


358  Memoirs  of 

had  already  experienced,  and  his  intimate  friends  were 
so  unscrupulous  that  there  was  no  saying  what  might 
be  invented  on  the  one  side  and  swallowed  on  the  other, 
to  my  discredit.  Those  friends,  too,  were,  I  knew,  en- 
raged against  me  for  divers  weighty  reasons,  and  would 
stop  at  nothing,  I  was  satisfied,  to  procure  my  down- 
fall. For  want  of  better  support  I  sustained  myself 
with  courage.  I  said  to  myself,  "  We  never  experience 
all  the  evil  or  all  the  good  that  we  have  apparently  the 
most  reason  to  expect."  I  hoped,  therefore,  against 
hope,  terribly,  troubled  it  must  be  confessed  on  the  score 
of  Meudon.  At  Easter,  this  year,  I  went  away  to  La 
Ferte,  far  from  the  Court  and  the  world,  to  solace  my- 
self as  I  could;  but  this  thorn  in  my  side  was  cruelly 
sharp!  At  the  moment  the  most  unlooked-for  it 
pleased  God  to  deliver  me  from  it. 

At  La  Ferte  I  had  but  few  guests:  M.  de  Saint-Louis, 
an  old  brigadier  of  cavalry,  and  a  Normandy  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  in  my  regiment,  and  who  was  much 
attached  to  me.  On  Saturday,  the  nth  of  the  month, 
and  the  day  before  Quasimodo,  I  had  been  walking 
with  them  all  the  morning,  and  I  had  entered  all  alone 
into  my  cabinet  a  little  before  dinner,  when  a  courier 
sent  by  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  gave  me  a  letter  from 
her,  in  which  I  was  informed  that  Monseigneur  was 
ill! 

I  learnt  afterwards  that  this  Prince,  while  on  his  way 
to  Meudon  for  the  Easter  fetes,  met  at  Chaville  a  priest, 
who  was  carrying  Our  Lord  to  a  sick  person.  Mon- 
seigneur, and  Madame  de  Bourgogne,  who  was  with 
him,  knelt  down  to  adore  the  Host,  and  then  Mon- 
seigneur inquired  what  was  the  malady  of  the  patient. 


Saint-Simon  359 

:<  The  small-pox,"  he  was  told.  That  disease  was  very 
prevalent  just  then.  Monseigneur  had  had  it,  but  very 
lightly,  and  when  young.  He  feared  it  very  much,  and 
was  struck  with  the  answer  he  now  received.  In  the 
evening  he  said  to  Boudin,  his  chief  doctor,  "  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  I  were  to  have  the  small-pox."  The 
day,  however,  passed  over  as  usual. 

On  the  morrow,  Thursday,  the  9th,  Monseigneur 
rose,  and  meant  to  go  out  wolf-hunting;  but  as  he  was 
dressing,  such  a  fit  of  weakness  seized  him,  that  he  fell 
into  his  chair.  Boudin  made  him  get  into  bed  again; 
but  all  the  day  his  pulse  was  in  an  alarming  state.  The 
King,  only  half  informed  by  Fagon  of  what  had  taken 
place,  believed  there  was  nothing  the  matter,  and  went 
out  walking  at  Marly  after  dinner,  receiving  news  from 
time  to  time.  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  and 
Madame  de  Bourgogne  dined  at  Meudon,  and  they 
would  not  quit  Monseigneur  for  one  moment.  The 
Princess  added  to  the  strict  duties  of  a  daughter-in-law 
all  that  her  gracefulness  could  suggest,  and  gave  every- 
thing to  Monseigneur  with  her  own  hand.  Her  heart 
could  not  have  been  troubled  by  what  her  reason  fore- 
saw; but,  nevertheless,  her  care  and  attention  were  ex- 
treme, without  any  airs  of  affectation  or  acting.  The 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  simple  and  holy  as  he  was,  and  full 
of  the  idea  of  his  duty,  exaggerated  his  attention;  and 
although  there  was  a  strong  suspicion  of  the  small-pox, 
neither  quitted  Monseigneur,  except  for  the  King's 
supper. 

The  next  day,  Friday,  the  loth,  in  reply  to  his  ex- 
press demands,  the  King  was  informed  of  the  extreme- 
ly dangerous  state  of  Monseigneur.  He  had  said  on 


360  Memoirs  of 

the  previous  evening  that  he  would  go  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  to  Meudon,  and  remain  there  during  all 
the  illness  of  Monseigneur  whatever  its  nature  might 
he.  He  was  now  as  good  as  his  word.  Immediately 
after  mass  he  set  out  for  Meudon.  Before  doing  so, 
he  forbade  his  children,  and  all  who  had  not  had  the 
small-pox,  to  go  there,  which  was  suggested  by  a  mo- 
tive of  kindness.  With  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  a 
small  suite,  he  had  just  taken  up  his  abode  in  Meudon, 
when  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  sent  me  the  letter  of 
which  I  have  just  made  mention. 

I  will  continue  to  speak  of  myself  with  the  same 
truthfulness  I  speak  of  others,  and  with  as  much  exact- 
ness as  possible.  According  to  the  terms  on  which  I 
was  with  Monseigneur  and  his  intimates,  may  be  im- 
agined the  impression  made  upon  me  by  this  news. 
I  felt  that  one  way  or  other,  well  or  ill,  the  malady  of 
Monseigneur  would  soon  terminate.  I  was  quite  at 
my  ease  at  La  Ferte.  I  resolved  therefore  to  wait  there 
until  I  received  fresh  particulars.  I  despatched  a  cou- 
rier to  Madame  de  Saint-Simon,  requesting  her  to  send 
me  another  the  next  day,  and  I  passed  the  rest  of  this 
day,  in  an  ebb  and  flow  of  feelings;  the  man  and  the 
Christian  struggling  against  the  man  and  the  courtier, 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  vague  fancies  catching 
glimpses  of  the  future,  painted  in  the  most  agreeable 
colours. 

The  courier  I  expected  so  impatiently  arrived  the 
next  day,  Sunday,  after  dinner.  The  small-pox  had 
declared  itself,  I  learnt,  and  was  going  on  as  well  as 
could  be  wished.  I  believed  Monseigneur  saved,  and 
wished  to  remain  at  my  own  house;  nevertheless  I  took 


Saint-Simon  361 

advice,  as  I  have  done  all  my  life,  and  with  great  re- 
gret set  out  the  next  morning.  At  La  Queue,  about 
six  leagues  from  Versailles,  I  met  a  financier  of  the 
name  of  La  Fontaine,  whom  I  knew  well.  He  was 
coming  from  Paris  and  Versailles,  and  came  up  to. me 
as  I  changed  horses.  Monseigneur,  he  said,  was  go- 
ing on  admirably;  and  he  added  details  which  con- 
vinced me  he  was  out  of  all  danger.  I  arrived  at  Ver- 
sailles, full  of  this  opinion,  which  was  confirmed  by 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon  and  everybody  I  met,  so  that 
nobody  any  longer  feared,  except  on  account  of  the 
treacherous  nature  of  this  disease  in  a  very  fat  man  of 
fifty. 

The  King  held  his  Council,  and  worked  in  the  even- 
ing with  his  ministers  as  usual.  He  saw  Monseigneur 
morning  and  evening,  oftentimes  in  the  afternoon,  and 
always  remained  long  by  the  bedside.  On  the  Mon- 
day I  arrived  he  had  dined  early,  and  had  driven  to 
Marly,  where  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  joined  him. 
He  saw  in  passing  on  the  outskirts  of  the  garden  of 
Versailles  his  grandchildren,  who  had  come  out  to  meet 
him,  but  he  would  not  let  them  come  near,  and  said 
"  good  day  "  from  a  distance.  The  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne had  had  the  small-pox,  but  no  trace  was  left. 

The  King  only  liked  his  own  houses,  and  could  not 
bear  to  be  anywhere  else.  This  was  why  his  visits  to 
Meudon  were  few  and  short,  and  only  made  from  com- 
plaisance. Madame  de  Maintenon  was  still  more  out 
of  her  element  there.  Although  her  chamber  was 
everywhere  a  sanctuary,  where  only  ladies  entitled  to 
the  most  extreme  familiarity  entered,  she  always  want- 
ed another  retreat  near  at  hand  entirely  inaccessible 


362  Memoirs  of 

except  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  alone,  and  that 
only  for  a  few  instants  at  a  time.  Thus  she  had  Saint- 
Cyr  for  Versailles  and  for  Marly;  and  at  Marly  also  a 
particular  retiring  place;  at  Fontainebleau  she  had  her 
town  house.  Seeing  therefore  that  Monseigneur  was 
getting  on  well,  and  that  a  long  sojourn  at  Meudon 
would  be  necessary,  the  upholsterers  of  the  King  were 
ordered  to  furnish  a  house  in  the  park  which  once  be- 
longed to  the  Chancellor  le  Tellier,  but  which  Mon- 
seigneur had  bought. 

When  I  arrived  at  Versailles,  I  wrote  to  M.  de  Beau- 
villiers  at  Meudon  praying  him  to  apprise  the  King 
that  I  had  returned  on  account  of  the  illness  of  Mon- 
seigneur, and  that  I  would  have  gone  to  see  him,  but 
that,  never  having  had  the  small-pox  I  was  included 
in  the  prohibition.  M.  de  Beauvilliers  did  as  I  asked, 
and  sent  word  back  to  me  that  my  return  had  been 
very  well  timed,  and  that  the  King  still  forbade  me 
as  well  as  Madame  de  Saint-Simon  to  go  to  Meudon. 
This  fresh  prohibition  did  not  distress  me  in  the  least. 
I  was  informed  of  all  that  was  passing  there,  and  that 
satisfied  me. 

There  were  yet  contrasts  at  Meudon  worth  noticing. 
Mademoiselle  Choin  never  appeared  while  the  King  was 
with  Monseigneur,  but  kept  close  in  her  loft.  When 
the  coast  was  clear  she  came  out,  and  took  up  her  po- 
sition at  the  sick  man's  bedside.  All  sorts  of  compli- 
ments passed  between  her  and  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
yet  the  two  ladies  never  met.  The  King  asked  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  if  she  had  seen  Mademoiselle 
Choin,  and  upon  learning  that  she  had  not,  was  but 
ill-pleased.  Therefore  Madame  de  Maintenon  sent  ex- 


Saint-Simon  363 

cuses  and  apologies  to  Mademoiselle  Choin,  and  hoped 
she  said  to  see  her  soon, — strange  compliments  from 
one  chamber  to  another  under  the  same  roof.  They 
never  saw  each  other  afterwards. 

It  should  be  observed,  that  Pere  Tellier  was  also  in- 
cognito at  Meudon,  and  dwelt  in  a  retired  room  from 
which  he  issued  to  see  the  King,  but  never  approached 
the  apartments  of  Monseigneur. 

Versailles  presented  another  scene.  Monseigneur  le 
Due  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  held  their 
Court  openly  there;  and  this  Court  resembled  the  first 
gleamings  of  the  dawn.  All  the  Court  assembled  there; 
all  Paris  also;  and  as  discretion  and  precaution  were 
never  French  virtues,  all  Meudon  came  as  well.  Peo- 
ple were  believed  on  their  word  when  they  declared 
that  they  had  not  entered  the  apartments  of  Mon- 
seigneur that  day,  and  consequently  could  not  bring  the 
infection.  \Yhen  the  Prince  and  Princess  rose,  when 
they  went  to  bed,  when  they  dined  and  supped  with 
the  ladies, — all  public  conversations — all  meals— all  as- 
semblies— were  opportunities  of  paying  court  to  them. 
The  apartments  could  not  contain  the  crowd.  The 
characteristic  features  of  the  room  were  many.  Couri- 
ers arrived  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  reminded 
people  of  the  illness  of  Monseigneur — he  was  going  on 
as  well  as  could  be  expected ;  confidence  and  hope  were 
easily  felt;  but  there  was  an  extreme  desire  to  please 
at  the  new  Court.  The  young  Prince  and  the  Prin- 
cess exhibited  majesty  and  gravity,  mixed  with  gaiety; 
obligingly  received  all.  continually  spoke  to  every  one; 
the  crowd  wore  an  air  of  complaisance;  reciprocal  sat- 
isfaction showed  in  every  face;  the  Due  and  Duchesse 


364  Memoirs  of 

de  Berry  were  treated  almost  as  nobody.  Thus  five 
days  fled  away  in  increasing  thought  of  future  events 
—in  preparation  to  be  ready  for  whatever  might  hap- 
pen. 

On  Tuesday,  the  I4th  of  April,  I  went  to  see  the 
Chancellor,  and  asked  for  information  upon  the  state 
of  Monseigneur.  He  assured  me  it  was  good,  and 
repeated  to  me  the  words  Fagon  had  spoken  to  him, 
"  that  things  were  going  on  according  to  their  wishes, 
and  beyond  their  hopes."  The  Chancellor  appeared 
to  me  very  confident,  and  I  had  faith  in  him,  so  much 
the  more,  because  he  was  on  an  extremely  good  foot- 
ing with  Monseigneur.  The  Prince,  indeed,  had  so 
much  recovered,  that  the  fish-women  came  in  a  body 
the  self-same  day  to  congratulate  him,  as  they  did  after 
his  attack  of  indigestion.  They  threw  themselves  at 
the  foot  of  his  bed,  which  they  kissed  several  times,  and 
in  their  joy  said  they  would  go  back  to  Paris  and  have 
a  Tc  Dcnm  sung.  But  Monseigneur,  who  was  not  in- 
sensible to  these  marks  of  popular  affection,  told  them 
it  was  not  yet  time,  thanked  them,  and  gave  them  a 
dinner,  and  some  money. 

As  I  was  going  home,  I  saw  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
walking  on  a  terrace.  She  called  to  me;  but  I  pre- 
tended not  to  notice  her,  because  La  Montauban  was 
with  her,  and  hastened  home,  my  mind  filled  with  this 
news,  and  withdrew  to  my  cabinet.  Almost  immedi- 
ately afterwards  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Orleans  joined 
me  there.  We  were  bursting  to  speak  to  each  other 
alone,  upon  a  point  on  which  our  thoughts  were  alike. 
She  had  left  Meudon  not  an  hour  before,  and  she  had 
the  same  tale  to  tell  as  the  Chancellor.  Everybody  was 


Saint-Simon  365 

at  ease  there  she  said;  and  then  she  extolled  the  care 
and  capacities  of  the  doctors,  exaggerating  their  suc- 
cess; and,  to  speak  frankly  and  to  our  shame,  she  and 
I  lamented  together  to  see  Monseigneur,  in  spite  of  his 
age  and  his  fat,  escape  from  so  dangerous  an  illness. 
She  reflected  seriously  but  wittily,  that  after  an  illness 
of  this  sort,  apoplexy  was  not  to  be  looked  for;  that 
an  attack  of  indigestion  was  equally  unlikely  to  arise, 
considering  the  care  Monseigneur  had  taken  not  to 
over-gorge  himself  since  his  recent  danger;  and  we 
concluded  more  than  dolefully,  that  henceforth  we  must 
make  up  our  minds  that  the  Prince  would  live  and 
reign  for  a  long  time.  In  a  word,  we  let  ourselves  loose 
in  this  rare  conversation,  although  not  without  an  oc- 
casional scruple  of  conscience  which  disturbed  it.  Ma- 
dame cle  Saint-Simon  all  devoutly  tried  what  she  could 
to  put  a  drag  upon  our  tongues,  but  the  drag  broke, 
so  to  speak,  and  we  continued  our  free  discourse,  hu- 
manly speaking  very  reasonable  on  our  parts,  but 
which  we  felt,  nevertheless,  was  not  according  to  re- 
ligion. Thus  two  hours  passed,  seemingly  very  short. 
Madame  d'Orleans  went  away,  and  I  repaired  with  Ma- 
dame de  Saint-Simon  to  receive  a  numerous  company. 
While  thus  all  was  tranquillity  at  Versailles,  and  even 
at  Meudon,  everything  had  changed  its  aspect  at  the 
chateau.  The  King  had  seen  Monseigneur  several 
times  during  the  day;  but  in  his  after-dinner  visit  he 
was  so  much  struck  with  the  extraordinary  swelling  of 
the  face  and  of  the  head,  that  he  shortened  his  stay, 
and  on  leaving  the  chateau,  shed  tears.  He  was  re- 
assured as  much  as  possible,  and  after  the  council  he 
took  a  walk  in  the  garden. 


366  Memoirs  of 

Nevertheless  Monseigneur  had  already  mistaken  Ma- 
dame la  Princesse  de  Conti  for  some  one  else;  and 
Boudin,  the  doctor,  was  alarmed.  Monseigneur  him- 
self had  been  so  from  the  first,  and  he  admitted,  that 
for  a  long  time  before  being  attacked,  he  had  been  very 
unwell,  and  so  much  on  Good  Friday,  that  he  had  been 
unable  to  read  his  prayer-book  at  chapel. 

Towards  four  o'clock  he  grew  worse,  so  much  so 
that  Boudin  proposed  to  Fagon  to  call  in  other  doc- 
tors, more  familiar  with  the  disease  than  they  were. 
But  Fagon  flew  into  a  rage  at  this,  and  would  call  in 
nobody.  He  declared  that  it  would  be  better  to  act 
for  themselves,  and  to  keep  Monscigneur's  state  secret, 
although  it  was  hourly  growing  worse,  and  towards 
seven  o'clock  was  perceived  by  several  valets  and  cour- 
tiers. But  nobody  dared  to  open  his  mouth  before 
Fagon,  and  the  King  was  actually  allowed  to  go  to  sup- 
per and  to  finish  it  without  interruption,  believing  on  the 
faith  of  Fagon  that  Monseigneur  was  going  on  well. 

While  the  King  supped  thus  tranquilly,  all  those  who 
were  in  the  sick-chamber  began  to  lose  their  wits. 
Fagon  and  the  others  poured  clown  physic  on  physic, 
without  leaving  time  for  any  to  work.  The  Cure,  who 
was  accustomed  to  go  and  learn  the  news  every  even- 
ing, found,  against  all  custom,  the  doors  thrown  wide 
open,  and  the  valets  in  confusion.  He  entered  the 
chamber,  and  perceiving  what  was  the  matter,  ran  to 
the  bedside,  took  the  hand  of  Monseigneur,  spoke  to 
him  of  God,  and  seeing  him  full  of  consciousness,  but 
scarcely  able  to  speak,  drew  from  him  a  sort  of  con- 
fession, of  which  nobody  had  hitherto  thought,  and 
suggested  some  acts  of  contrition.  The  poor  Prince 


Saint-Simon  367 

repeated  distinctly  several  words  suggested  to  him,  and 
confusedly  answered  others,  struck  his  breast,  squeezed 
the  Cure's  hand,  appeared  penetrated  with  the  best 
sentiments,  and  received  with  a  contrite  and  willing 
air  the  absolution  of  the  Cure. 

As  the  King  rose  from  the  supper-table,  he  well-nigh 
fell  backward  when  Fagon,  coming  forward,  cried  in 
great  trouble  that  all  was  lost.  It  may  be  imagined 
what  terror  seized  all  the  company  at  this  abrupt  pas- 
sage from  perfect  security  to  hopeless  despair.  The 
King,  scarcely  master  of  himself,  at  once  began  to  go 
towards  the  apartment  of  Monseigneur,  and  repelled 
very  stiffly  the  indiscreet  eagerness  of  some  courtiers 
who  wished  to  prevent  him,  saying  that  he  would  see 
his  son  again,  and  be  quite  certain  that  nothing  could 
be  done.  As  he  was  about  to  enter  the  chamber,  Ma- 
dame la  Princesse  de  Conti  presented  herself  before 
him,  and  prevented  him  from  going  in.  She  pushed 
him  back  with  her  hands,  and  said  that  henceforth  he 
had  only  to  think  of  himself.  Then  the  King,  nearly 
fainting  from  a  shock  so  complete  and  so  sudden,  fell 
upon  a  sofa  that  stood  near.  He  asked  unceasingly 
for  news  of  all  who  passed,  but  scarce  anybody  dared 
to  reply  to  him.  He  had  sent  for  Pere  Tellier,  who 
went  into  Monseigneur's  room;  but  it  was  no  longer 
time.  It  is  true  the  Jesuit,  perhaps  to  console  the 
King,  said  that  he  gave  him  a  well-founded  absolu- 
tion. Madame  de  Maintenon  hastened  after  the  King, 
and  sitting  down  beside  him  on  the  same  sofa,  tried 
to  cry.  She  endeavoured  to  lead  away  the  King  into 
the  carriage  already  waiting  for  him  in  the  court-yard, 
but  lie  would  not  go,  and  sat  thus  outside  the  door  until 
Monseigneur  had  expired. 


368  Saint-Simon 

The  agony,  without  consciousness,  of  Monseigneur 
lasted  more  than  an  hour  after  the  King  had  come  into 
the  cabinet.  Madame  la  Duchesse  and  Madame  la 
Princesse  de  Conti  divided  their  cares  between  the  dy- 
ing man  and  the  King,  to  whom  they  constantly  came 
back;  whilst  the  faculty  confounded,  the  valets  bewil- 
dered, the  courtiers  hurrying  and  murmuring,  hustled 
against  each  other,  and  moved  unceasingly  to  and  fro, 
backwards  and  forwards,  in  the  same  narrow  space. 
At  last  the  fatal  moment  arrived.  Fagon  came  out, 
and  allowed  so  much  to  be  understood. 

The  King,  much  afflicted,  and  very  grieved  that  Mon- 
seigneur's  confession  had  been  so  tardily  made,  abused 
Fagon  a  little;  and  went  away  led  by  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  and  the  twro  Princesses.  He  was  somewhat 
struck  by  rinding  the  vehicle  of  Monseigneur  outside; 
and  made  a  sign  that  he  would  have  another  coach, 
for  that  one  made  him  suffer,  and  left  the  chateau.  He 
was  not,  however,  so  much  occupied  with  his  grief  that 
he  could  not  call  Pontchartrain  to  arrange  the  hour 
of  the  council  of  the  next  day.  I  will  not  comment  on 
this  coolness,  and  shall  merely  say  it  surprised  extreme- 
ly all  present;  and  that  if  Pontchartrain  had  not  said 
the  council  could  be  put  off,  no  interruption  to  busi- 
ness would  have  taken  place.  The  King  got  into  his 
coach  with  difficulty,  supported  on  both  sides.  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon  seated  herself  beside  him.  A 
crowd  of  officers  of  Monseigneur  lined  both  sides  of 
the  court  on  their  knees,  as  he  passed  out,  crying  to 
him  with  strange  bowlings  to  have  compassion  on 
them,  for  they  had  lost  all,  and  must  die  of  hunger. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A  Rumour  Reaches  Versailles — Aspect  of  the  Court — Various 
Forms  of  Grief — The  Due  d'Orleans — The  News  Confirmed 
at  Versailles — Behaviour  of  the  Courtiers — The  Due  and 
Duchesse  de  Berry — The  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
— Madame  —  A  Swiss  Asleep  —  Picture  of  a  Court  —  The 
Heir  Apparent's  Night — The  King  Returns  to  Marly — 
Character  of  Monseigneur — Effect  of  His  Death. 

WHILE  Meudon  was  filled  with  horror,  all  was 
tranquil  at  Versailles,  without  the  least  sus- 
picion. We  had  supped.  The  company  some  time 
after  had  retired,  and  I  was  talking  with  Madame  dc 
Saint-Simon,  who  had  nearly  finished  undressing  her- 
self to  go  to  bed,  when  a  servant  of  Madame  la  Du- 
chesse de  Berry,  who  had  formerly  belonged  to  us,  en- 
tered, all  terrified.  He  said  that  there  must  be  some 
bad  news  from  Meudon,  since  Monseigneur  le  Due  de 
Bourgogne  had  just  whispered  in  the  ear  of  M.  le  Due 
de  Berry,  whose  eyes  had  at  once  become  red,  that  he 
left  the  table,  and  that  all  the  company  shortly  after 
him  rose  with  precipitation.  So  sudden  a  change  ren- 
dered my  surprise  extreme.  I  ran  in  hot  haste  to 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Berry's.  Nobody  was  there. 
Everybody  had  gone  to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne. I  followed  on  with  all  speed. 
VOL.  II. — .4  369 


370  Memoirs  of 

I  found  all  Versailles  assembled  on  arriving,  all  the 
ladies  hastily  dressed — the  majority  having  been  on 
the  point  of  going  to  bed — all  the  doors  open,  and  all 
in  trouble.  I  learnt  that  Monseigneur  had  received 
the  extreme  unction,  that  he  was  without  conscious- 
ness and  beyond  hope,  and  that  the  King  had  sent 
word  to  Madame  de  Bourgogne  that  he  was  going  to 
Marly,  and  that  she  was  to  meet  him  as  he  passed 
through  the  avenue  between  the  two  stables. 

The  spectacle  before  me  attracted  all  the  attention  I 
could  bestow.  The  two  Princes  and  the  two  Princesses 
were  in  the  little  cabinet  behind  the  bed.  The  bed 
toilette  was  as  usual  in  the  chamber  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne,  which  was  filled  with  all  the  Court 
in  confusion.  She  came  and  went  from  the  cabinet 
to  the  chamber,  waiting  for  the  moment  when  she  was 
to  meet  the  King;  and  her  demeanour,  always  distin- 
guished by  the  same  graces,  was  one  of  trouble  and 
compassion,  which  the  trouble  and  compassion  of 
others  induced  them  to  take  for  grief.  Now  and  then, 
in  passing,  she  said  a  few  rare  words.  All  present 
were  in  truth  expressive  personages.  Whoever  had 
eyes,  without  any  knowledge  of  the  Court,  could  see 
the  interests  of  all  interested  painted  on  their  faces, 
and  the  indifference  of  the  indifferent ;  these  tranquil, 
the  former  penetrated  with  grief,  or  gravely  attentive 
to  themselves  to  hide  their  emancipation  and  their  joy. 

For  my  part,  my  first  care  was  to  inform  myself 
thoroughly  of  the  state  of  affairs,  fearing  lest  there 
might  be  too  much  alarm  for  too  trifling  a  cause ;  then, 
recovering  myself,  I  reflected  upon  the  misery  com- 
mon to  all  men,  and  that  I  myself  should  find  myself 


Saint-Simon  371 

some  day  at  the  gates  of  death.  Joy,  nevertheless, 
found  its  way  through  the  momentary  reflections  of 
religion  and  of  humanity,  by  which  I  tried  to  master 
myself.  My  own  private  deliverance  seemed  so  great 
and  so  unhoped  for,  that  it  appeared  to  me  that  the 
State  must  gain  everything  by  such  a  loss.  And  with 
these  thoughts  I  felt,  in  spite  of  myself,  a  lingering  fear 
lest  the  sick  man  should  recover,  and  was  extremely 
ashamed  of  it. 

Wrapped  up  thus  in  myself,  I  did  not  fail,  neverthe- 
less, to  cast  clandestine  looks  upon  each  face,  to  see 
what  was  passing  there.  I  saw  Madame  la  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  arrive,  but  her  countenance,  majestic  and 
constrained,  said  nothing.  She  went  into  the  little 
cabinet,  whence  she  presently  issued  with  the  Due 
d'Orleans,  whose  activity  and  turbulent  air  marked  his 
emotion  at  the  spectacle  more  than  any  other  senti- 
ment. They  went  away,  and  I  notice  this  expressly, 
on  account  of  what  happened  afterwards  in  my  pres- 
ence. 

Soon  afterwards  I  caught  a  distant  glimpse  of  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  who  seemed  much  moved  and 
troubled ;  but  the  glance  with  which  I  probed  him 
rapidly,  revealed  nothing  tender,  and  told  merely  of  a 
mind  profoundly  occupied  with  the  bearings  of  what 
had  taken  place. 

Valets  and  chamber-women  were  already  indis- 
creetly crying  out ;  and  their  grief  showed  well  that 
they  were  about  to  lose  something ! 

Towards  half-past  twelve  we  had  news  of  the  King, 
and  immediately  after  Madame  de  Bourgogne  came 
out  of  the  little  cabinet  with  the  Duke,  who  seemed 


372  Memoirs  of 

more  touched  than  when  I  first  saw  him.  The  Prin- 
cess took  her  carf  and  her  coifs  from  the  toilette,  stand- 
ing with  a  deliberate  air,  her  eyes  scarcely  wet — a  fact 
betrayed  by  inquisitive  glances  cast  rapidly  to  the  right 
and  left — and,  followed  only  by  her  ladies,  went  to  her 
coach  by  the  great  staircase. 

I  took  the  opportunity  to  go  to  the  Duchesse  d'Or- 
leans,  where  I  found  many  people.  Their  presence 
made  me  very  impatient ;  the  Duchess,  who  was 
equally  impatient,  took  a  light  and  went  in.  I  whis- 
pered in  the  ear  of  the  Duchesse  de  Villeroy,  who 
thought  as  I  thought  of  this  event.  She  nudged  me, 
and  said  in  a  very  low  voice  that  I  must  contain  my- 
self. I  was  smothered  with  silence,  amidst  the  com- 
plaints and  the  narrative  surprises  of  these  ladies ;  but 
at  last  M.  le  Due  d'Orleans  appeared  at  the  door  of 
his  cabinet,  and  beckoned  me  to  come  to  him. 

I  followed  him  fnto  the  cabinet,  where  we  were  alone. 
What  was  my  surprise,  remembering  the  terms  on 
which  he  was  with  Monseigneur,  to  see  the  tears 
streaming  from  his  eyes. 

"Sir!"  exclaimed  I,  rising.  He  understood  me  at 
once ;  and  answered  in  a  broken  voice,  really  crying : 
"  You  are  right  to  be  surprised — I  am  surprised  my- 
self; but  such  a  spectacle  touches.  He  was  a  man 
with  whom  I  passed  much  of  my  life,  and  who  treated 
me  well  when  he  was  uninfluenced.  I  feel  very  well 
that  my  grief  won't  last  long;  in  a  few  days  I  shall 
discover  motives  of  joy ;  at  present,  blood,  relation- 
ship, humanity, — all  work ;  and  my  entrails  are 
moved."  I  praised  his  sentiments,  but  repeated  my 
surprise.  He  rose,  thrust  his  head  into  a  corner,  and 


Saint-Simon  373 

with  his  nose  there,  wept  bitterly  and  sobbed,  which 
if  I  had  not  seen  I  could  not  have  believed. 

After  a  little  silence,  however,  I  exhorted  him  to 
calm  himself.  I  represented  to  him  that,  everybody 
knowing  on  what  terms  he  had  been  with  Mon- 
seigneur,  he  would  be  laughed  at,  as  playing  a  part, 
if  his  eyes  showed  that  he  had  been  weeping.  He  did 
what  he  could  to  remove  the  marks  of  his  tears,  and 
we  then  went  back  into  the  other  room. 

The  interview  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  with 
the  King  had  not  been  long.  She  met  him  in  the 
avenue  between  the  two  stables,  got  down,  and  went 
to  the  door  of  the  carriage.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
cried  out,  "Where  are  you  going?  We  bear  the 
plague  about  with  us."  I  do  not  know  what  the  King 
said  or  did.  The  Princess  returned  to  her  carriage, 
and  came  back  to  Versailles,  bringing  in  reality  the 
first  news  of  the  actual  death  of  Monseigneur. 

Acting  upon  the  advice  of  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  all 
the  company  had  gone  into  the  salon.  The  two 
Princes,  Monseigneur  de  Bourgogne  and  M.  de  Berry, 
were  there,  seated  on  one  sofa,  their  Princesses  at  their 
sides ;  all  the  rest  of  the  company  were  scattered  about 
in  confusion,  seated  or  standing,  some  of  the  ladies 
being  on  the  floor,  near  the  sofa.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  what  had  happened.  It  was  plainly  written 
on  every  face  in  the  chamber  and  throughout  the  apart- 
ment. Monseigneur  wras  no  more :  it  was  known :  it 
was  spoken  of:  constraint  with  respect  to  him  no 
longer  existed.  Amidst  the  surprise,  the  confusion, 
and  the  movements  that  prevailed,  the  sentiments  of 
all  were  painted  to  the  life  in  looks  and  gestures. 


374  Memoirs  of 

In  the  outside  rooms  were  heard  the  constrained 
groans  and  sighs  of  the  valets — grieving  for  the  master 
they  had  lost  as  well  as  for  the  master  that  had  suc- 
ceeded. Farther  on  began  the  crowd  of  courtiers  of 
all  kinds.  The  greater  number — that  is  to  say  the 
fools — pumped  up  sighs  as  well  as  they  could,  and 
with  wandering  but  dry  eyes,  sung  the  praises  of  Mon- 
seigneur — insisting  especially  on  his  goodness.  They 
pitied  the  King  for  the  loss  of  so  good  a  son.  The 
keener  began  already  to  be  uneasy  about  the  health 
of  the  King;  and  admired  themselves  for  preserving 
so  much  judgment  amidst  so  much  trouble,  which 
could  be  perceived  by  the  frequency  of  their  repeti- 
tions. Others,  really  afflicted — the  discomfited  cabal 
— wept  bitterly,  and  kept  themselves  under  with  an 
effort  as  easy  to  notice  as  sobs.  The  most  strong- 
minded  or  the  wisest,  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground, 
in  corners,  meditated  on  the  consequences  of  such  an 
event — and  especially  on  their  own  interests.  Few 
words  passed  in  conversation — here  and  there  an  ex- 
clamation wrung  from  grief  was  answered  by  some 
neighbouring  grief — a  word  every  quarter  of  an  hour 
— sombre  and  haggard  eyes — movements  quite  invol- 
untary of  the  hands — immobility  of  all  other  parts  of 
the  body.  Those  who  already  looked  upon  the  event 
as  favourable  in  vain  exaggerated  their  gravity  so  as 
to  make  it  resemble  chagrin  and  severity ;  the  veil 
over  their  faces  was  transparent  and  hid  not  a  single 
feature.  They  remained  as  motionless  as  those  who 
grieved  most,  fearing  opinion,  curiosity,  their  own 
satisfaction,  their  every  movement ;  but  their  eyes 
made  up  for  their  immobility.  Indeed  they  could  not 


Saint-Simon  375 

refrain  from  repeatedly  changing  their  attitude  like 
people  ill  at  ease,  sitting  or  standing,  from  avoiding 
each  other  too  carefully,  even  from  allowing  their  eyes 
to  meet — nor  repress  a  manifest  air  of  liberty — nor 
conceal  their  increased  liveliness — nor  put  out  a  sort 
of  brilliancy  which  distinguished  them  in  spite  of  them- 
selves. 

The  two  Princes,  and  the  two  Princesses  who  sat 
by  their  sides,  were  more  exposed  to  view  than  any 
other.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne  wept  with  tenderness, 
sincerity,  and  gentleness,  the  tears  of  nature,  of  re- 
ligion, and  patience.  M.  le  Due  de  Berry  also  sin- 
cerely shed  abundance  of  tears,  but  bloody  tears,  so 
to  speak,  so  great  appeared  their  bitterness ;  and  he 
uttered  not  only  sobs,  but  cries,  nay,  even  yells.  He 
was  silent  sometimes,  but  from  suffocation,  and  then 
would  burst  out  again  with  such  a  noise,  such  a 
trumpet  sound  of  despair,  that  the  majority  present 
burst  out  also  at  these  dolorous  repetitions,  either  im- 
pelled by  affliction  or  decorum.  He  became  so  bad,  in 
fact,  that  his  people  were  forced  to  undress  him  then 
and  there,  put  him  to  bed,  and  call  in  the  doctor. 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Berry  was  beside  herself,  and 
we  shall  soon  see  why.  The  most  bitter  despair  was 
painted  with  horror  on  her  face.  There  was  seen  \vrit- 
ten,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  furious  grief,  based  on  interest, 
not  affection  ;  now  and  then  came  dry  lulls  deep  and 
sullen,  then  a  torrent  of  tears  and  involuntary  gest- 
ures, yet  restrained,  which  showed  extreme  bitterness 
of  mind,  fruit  of  the  profound  meditation  that  had 
preceded.  Often  aroused  by  the  cries  of  her  hus- 
band, prompt  to  assist  him,  to  support  him,  to  embrace 


376  Memoirs  of 

him,  to  give  her  smelling-bottle,  her  care  for  him  was 
evident ;  but  soon  came  another  profound  reverie — 
then  a  gush  of  tears  assisted  to  suppress  her  cries.  As 
for  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  she  consoled 
her  husband  with  less  trouble  than  she  had  to  appear 
herself  in  want  of  consolation.  Without  attempting 
to  play  a  part,  it  was  evident  that  she  did  her  best  to 
acquit  herself  of  a  pressing  duty  of  decorum.  But 
she  found  extreme  difficulty  in  keeping  up  appear- 
ances. When  the  Prince  her  brother-in-law  howled, 
she  blew  her  nose.  She  had  brought  some  tears  along 
with  her  and  kept  them  up  with  care ;  and  these  com- 
bined with  the  art  of  the  handkerchief,  enabled  her  to 
redden  her  eyes,  and  make  them  swell,  and  smudge 
her  face ;  but  her  glances  often  wandered  on  the  sly 
to  the  countenances  of  all  present. 

Madame  arrived,  in  full  dress  she  knew  not  why, 
and  howling  she  knew  not  why,  inundated  everybody 
with  her  tears  in  embracing  them,  making  the  chateau 
echo  with  renewed  cries,  and  furnished  the  odd  spec- 
tacle of  a  Princess  putting  on  her  robes  of  ceremony 
in  the  dead  of  night  to  come  and  cry  among  a  crowd 
of  women  with  but  little  on  except  their  night-dresses, 
— almost  as  masqueraders. 

In  the  gallery  several  ladies,  Madame  la  Duchesse 
d'Orleans,  Madame  de  Castries,  and  Madame  de  Saint- 
Simon  among  the  rest,  rinding  no  one  close  by,  drew 
near  each  other  by  the  side  of  a  tent-bedstead,  and  be- 
gan to  open  their  hearts  to  each  other,  which  they  did 
with  the  more  freedom,  inasmuch  as  they  had  but  one 
sentiment  in  common  upon  what  had  occurred.  In 
this  gallery,  and  in  the  salon,  there  were  always  during 


Saint-Simon  377 

the  night  several  beds,  in  which,  for  security's  sake, 
certain  Swiss  guards  and  servants  slept.  These  beds 
had  been  put  in  their  usual  place  this  evening  before 
the  bad  news  came  from  Meudon.  In  the  midst  of 
the  conversation  of  the  ladies,  Madame  de  Castries 
touched  the  bed,  felt  something  move,  and  was  much 
terrified.  A  moment  after  they  saw  a  sturdy  arm, 
nearly  naked,  raise  on  a  sudden  the  curtains,  and  thus 
show  them  a  great  brawny  Swiss  under  the  sheets,  half 
awake,  and  wholly  amazed.  The  fellow  was  a  long 
time  in  making  out  his  position,  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
every  face  one  after  the  other ;  but  at  last,  not  judging 
it  advisable  to  get  up  in  the  midst  of  such  a  grand  com- 
pany, he  reburied  himself  in  his  bed,  and  closed  the 
curtains.  Apparently  the  good  man  had  gone  to  bed 
before  anything  had  transpired,  and  had  slept  so 
soundly  ever  since  that  he  had  not  been  aroused  until 
then.  The  saddest  sights  have  often  the  most  ridicu- 
lous contrasts.  This  caused  some  of  the  ladies  to 
laugh,  and  Madame  d'Orleans  fear  lest  the  conversa- 
tion should  have  been  overheard.  But  after  reflection, 
the  sleep  and  the  stupidity  of  the  sleeper  reassured 
her. 

I  had  some  doubts  yet  as  to  the  event  that  had  taken 
place ;  for  I  did  not  like  to  abandon  myself  to  belief, 
until  the  word  was  pronounced  by  some  one  in  whom 
I  could  have  faith.  By  chance  I  met  D'O,  and  I  asked 
him.  He  answered  me  clearly  that  Monseigneur 
was  no  more.  Thus  answered,  I  tried  not  to  be 
glad.  I  know  not  if  I  succeeded  well,  but  at  least  it  is 
certain,  that  neither  joy  nor  sorrow  blunted  my  curi- 
osity, and  that  while  taking  due  care  to  preserve  all 


378  Memoirs  of 

decorum,  I  did  not  consider  myself  in  any  way  forced 
to  play  the  doleful.  I  no  longer  feared  any  fresh  at- 
tack from  the  citadel  of  Meudon,  nor  any  cruel  charges 
from  its  implacable  garrison.  I  felt,  therefore,  under 
no  constraint,  and  followed  every  face  with  my  glances, 
and  tried  to  scrutinise  them  unobserved.  It  must  be 
admitted,  that  for  him  who  is  well  acquainted  with  the 
privacies  of  a  Court,  the  first  sight  of  rare  events  of  this 
nature,  so  interesting  in  so  many  different  respects,  is 
extremely  satisfactory.  Every  countenance  recalls  the 
cares,  the  intrigues,  the  labours  employed  in  the  ad- 
vancement of  fortunes — in  the  overthrow  of  rivals :  the 
relations,  the  coldness,  the  hatreds,  the  evil  offices 
done,  the  baseness  of  all ;  hope,  despair,  rage,  satis- 
faction, express  themselves  in  the  features.  See  how 
all  eyes  wander  to  and  fro  examining  what  passes 
around — how  some  are  astonished  to  find  others  more 
mean,  or  less  mean  than  was  expected !  Thus  this 
spectacle  produced  a  pleasure,  which,  hollow  as  it  may 
be,  is  one  of  the  greatest  a  Court  can  bestow. 

The  turmoil  in  this  vast  apartment  lasted  about  an 
hour,  at  the  end  of  which  M.  de  Beauvilliers  thought 
it  was  high  time  to  deliver  the  Princes  of  their  com- 
pany. The  rooms  were  cleared.  M.  le  Due  de  Berry 
went  away  to  his  rooms,  partly  supported  by  his  wife. 
All  through  the  night  he  asked,  amid  tears  and  cries, 
for  news  from  Meudon  ;  he  would  not  understand  the 
cause  of  the  King's  departure  to  Marly.  When  at 
length  the  mournful  curtain  was  drawn  from  before 
his  eyes,  the  state  he  fell  into  cannot  be  described. 
The  night  of  Monscigneur  and  Madame  de  Bourgogne 
was  more  tranquil.  Some  one  having  said  to  the  Prin- 


Saint-Simon  379 

cess,  that  having  no  real  cause  to  be  affected,  it  would 
be  terrible  to  play  a  part,  she  replied,  quite  naturally, 
that  without  feigning,  pity  touched  her  and  decorum 
controlled  her  ;  and  indeed  she  kept  herself  within  these 
bounds  with  truth  and  decency.  Their  chamber,  in 
which  they  invited  several  ladies  to  pass  the  night  in 
arm-chairs,  became  immediately  a  palace  of  Morpheus. 
All  quietly  fell  asleep.  The  curtains  were  left  open, 
so  that  the  Prince  and  Princess  could  be  seen  sleeping 
profoundly.  They  woke  up  once  or  twice  for  a  mo- 
ment. In  the  morning  the  Duke  and  Duchess  rose 
early,  their  tears  quite  dried  up.  They  shed  no  more 
for  this  cause,  except  on  special  and  rare  occasions. 
The  ladies  who  had  watched  and  slept  in  their  cham- 
ber, told  their  friends  how  tranquil  the  night  had  been. 
But  nobody  was  surprised,  and  as  there  was  no  longer 
a  Monseigneur,  nobody  was  scandalised.  Madame  de 
Saint-Simon  and  I  remained  up  two  hours  before  go- 
ing to  bed,  and  then  went  there  without  feeling  any 
want  of  rest.  In  fact,  I  slept  so  little  that  at  seven  in 
the  morning  I  was  up ;  but  it  must  be  admitted  that 
such  restlessness  is  sweet,  and  such  re-awakenings  are 
savoury. 

Horror  reigned  at  Metidon.  As  soon  as  the  King 
left,  all  the  courtiers  left  also,  crowding  into  the  first 
carriages  that  came.  In  an  instant  Meudon  was 
empty.  Mademoiselle  Choin  remained  alone  in  her 
garret,  and  unaware  of  what  had  taken  place.  She 
learned  it  only  by  the  cry  raised.  Nobody  thought  of 
telling  her.  At  last  some  friends  went  up  to  her,  hur- 
ried her  into  ^  a  hired  coach,  and  took  her  to  Paris. 
The  dispersion  was  general.  One  or  two  valets,  at 


380  Memoirs  of 

the  most,  remained  near  the  body.  La  Vrilliere,  to 
his  praise  be  it  said,  was  the  only  courtier  who,  not 
having  abandoned  Monseigneur  during  life,  did  not 
abandon  him  after  his  death.  He  had  some  difficulty 
to  find  somebody  to  go  in  search  of  Capuchins  to 
pray  over  the  corpse.  The  decomposition  became  so 
rapid  and  so  great,  that  the  opening  of  the  windows 
was  not  enough ;  the  Capuchins,  La  Vrilliere,  and  the 
valets,  were  compelled  to  pass  the  night  outside. 

At  Marly  everybody  had  felt  so  confident  that  the 
King's  return  there  was  not  dreamt  of.  Nothing  was 
ready,  no  keys  of  the  rooms,  no  fires,  scarcely  an  end 
of  candle.  The  King  was  more  than  an  hour  thus 
with  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  other  ladies  in  one 
of  the  ante-chambers.  The  King  retired  into  a  corner, 
seated  between  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  two  other 
ladies,  and  wept  at  long  intervals.  At  last  the  chamber 
of  Madame  dc  Maintenon  was  ready.  The  King  en- 
tered, remained  there  an  hour,  and  then  went  to  bed  at 
nearly  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Monseigneur  was  rather  tall  than  short ;  very  fat, 
but  without  being  bloated  ;  with  a  very  lofty  and  noble 
aspect  without  any  harshness ;  and  he  would  have  had 
a  very  agreeable  face  if  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  had  not 
unfortunately  broken  his  nose  in  playing  while  they 
were  both  young.  He  was  of  a  very  beautiful  fair 
complexion ;  he  had  a  face  everywhere  covered  with  a 
healthy  red,  but  without  expression ;  the  most  beauti- 
ful legs  in  the  world  ;  his  feet  singularly  small  and  deli- 
cate. He  wavered  always  in  walking,  and  felt  his  way 
with  his  feet ;  he  was  always  afraid  of  falling,  and  if  the 
path  was  not  perfectly  even  and  straight,  he  called  for 


Saint-Simon  381 

assistance.  He  was  a  good  horseman,  and  looked  well 
when  mounted ;  but  he  was  not  a  bold  rider.  When 
hunting — they  had  persuaded  him  that  he  liked  this 
amusement — a  servant  rode  before  him  ;  if  he  lost  sight 
of  this  servant  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  slacked  his 
pace  to  a  gentle  trot,  and  oftentimes  waited  under  a 
tree  for  the  hunting  party,  and  returned  to  it  slowly. 
He  was  very  fond  of  the  table,  but  always  without  in- 
decency. Ever  since  that  great  attack  of  indigestion, 
which  was  taken  at  first  for  apoplexy,  he  made  but  one 
real  meal  a  day,  and  was  content, — although  a  great 
eater,  like  the  rest  of  the  royal  family.  Nearly  all  his 
portraits  well  resemble  him. 

As  for  his  character  he  had  none  ;  he  was  without 
enlightenment  or  knowledge  of  any  kind,  radically  in- 
capable of  acquiring  any ;  very  idle,  without  imagina- 
tion or  productiveness ;  without  taste,  without  choice, 
without  discernment ;  neither  seeing  the  weariness  he 
caused  others,  nor  that  he  was  as  a  ball  moving  at 
hap-hazard  by  the  impulsion  of  others ;  obstinate  and 
little  to  excess  in  everything;  amazingly  credulous  and 
accessible  to  prejudice,  keeping  himself,  always,  in  the 
most  pernicious  hands,  yet  incapable  of  seeing  his 
position  or  of  changing  it ;  absorbed  in  his  fat  and  his 
ignorance  ;  so  that  without  any  desire  to  do  ill  he  would 
have  made  a  pernicious  King. 

His  avariciousness,  except  in  certain  things,  passed 
all  belief.  He  kept  an  account  of  his  personal  ex- 
penditure, and  knew  to  a  penny  what  his  smallest  and 
his  largest  expenses  amounted  to.  He  spent  large 
sums  in  building,  in  furniture,  in  jewels,  and  in  hunt- 
ing, which  he  made  himself  believe  he  was  fond  of. 


382  Memoirs  of 

It  is  inconceivable  the  little  he  gave  to  La  Choin, 
whom  he  so  much  loved.  It  never  exceeded  four  hun- 
dred louis  a  quarter  in  gold,  or  sixteen  hundred  louis 
a  year,  whatever  the  louis  might  be  worth.  He  gave 
them  to  her  with  his  own  hand,  without  adding  or 
subtracting  a  pistole,  and,  at  the  most,  made  her  but 
one  present  a  year,  and  that  he  looked  at  twice  before 
giving.  It  was  said  that  they  were  married,  and  cer- 
tain circumstances  seemed  to  justify  this  rumour.  As, 
for  instance,  during  the  illness  of  Monseigneur,  the 
King,  as  I  have  said,  asked  Madame  de  Maintenon  if 
she  had  seen  Mademoiselle  Choin,  and  upon  receiving 
a  negative  reply,  was  displeased.  Instead  of  driving 
her  away  from  the  chateau  he  inquired  particularly 
after  her!  This,  to  say  the  least,  looked  as  though 
Mademoiselle  Choin  was  Monseigneur's  Maintenon ; 
but  the  matter  remained  incomprehensible  to  the  last. 
Mademoiselle  Choin  threw  no  light  upon  it,  although 
she  spoke  on  many  other  things  concerning  Mon- 
seigneur in  the  modest  home  at  Paris,  to  which  she  had 
retired  for  the  rest  of  her  days.  The  King  gave  her  a 
pension  of  twelve  thousand  livres. 

Monseigneur  was,  I  have  said,  ignorant  to  the  last 
degree,  and  had  a  thorough  aversion  for  learning ;  so 
that,  according  to  his  own  admission,  ever  since  he 
had  been  released  from  the  hands  of  teachers  he  had 
never  read  anything  except  the  article  in  the  "  Gazette 
de  France/'  in  which  deaths  and  marriages  are  re- 
corded. His  timidity,  especially  before  the  King,  was 
equal  to  his  ignorance,  which  indeed  contributed  not 
a  little  to  cause  it.  The  King  took  advantage  of  it, 
and  never  treated  him  as  a  son,  but  as  a  subject.  He 


Saint-Simon  383 

was  the  monarch  always,  never  the  father.  Mon- 
seigneur had  not  the  slightest  influence  with  the  King. 
If  he  showed  any  preference  for  a  person  it  was 
enough !  That  person  was  sure  to  be  kept  back  by 
the  King.  The  King  was  so  anxious  to  show  that 
Monseigneur  could  do  nothing,  that  Monseigneur  after 
a  time  did  not  even  try.  He  contented  himself  by  com- 
plaining occasionally  in  monosyllables,  and  by  hoping 
for  better  times. 

The  body  of  Monseigneur  so  soon  grew  decomposed, 
that  immediate  burial  was  necessary.  At  midnight  on 
Wednesday  he  was  carried,  with  but  little  ceremony, 
to  Saint-Denis,  and  deposited  in  the  royal  vaults.  His 
funeral  services  were  said  at  Saint-Denis  on  the  iSth 
of  the  following  June,  and  at  Notre  Dame  on  the  3rd 
of  July.  As  the  procession  passed  through  Paris 
nothing  but  cries,  acclamations,  and  eulogiums  of  the 
defunct  were  heard.  Monseigneur  had,  I  know  not 
how,  much  endeared  himself  to  the  common  people 
of  Paris,  and  this  sentiment  soon  gained  the  provinces  ; 
so  true  it  is,  that  in  France  it  costs  little  to  its  Princes 
to  make  themselves  almost  adored ! 

The  King  soon  got  over  his  affliction  for  the  loss  of 
this  son  of  fifty.  Never  was  a  man  so  ready  with  tears, 
so  backward  with  grief,  or  so  promptly  restored  to  his 
ordinary  state.  The  morning  after  the  death  of  Mon- 
seigneur he  rose  late,  called  M.  de  Beauvilliers  into  his 
cabinet,  shed  some  more  tears,  and  then  said  that  from 
that  time  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  and 
Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  were  to  enjoy 
the  honours,  the  rank,  and  the  name  of  Dauphin  and 
of  Dauphine.  Henceforth  I  shall  call  them  by  no 
other  names. 


384 


Saint-Simon 


My  joy  at  this  change  may  be  imagined.  In  a  few 
clays  all  my  causes  of  disquietude  had  been  removed, 
and  I  saw  a  future  opening  before  me  full  of  light  and 
promise.  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  become 
Dauphin,  heir  to  the  throne  of  France  ;  what  favour 
might  I  not  hope  for?  I  could  not  conceal  or  control 
my  satisfaction. 

But  alas  !  it  was  soon  followed  by  sad  disappointment 
and  grievous  sorrow.* 

*  The  death  of  Monseignetir  leaving  Louis  XIV.  almost  in  his  dotage, 
on  the  throne,  surrounded  by  young  Princes  and  Princesses  impatient 
for  a  new  reign,  worked  a  wonderful  change  in  the  Court  of  France. 
The  subsequent  part  of  these  Memoirs  will  show  the  steps  that  led  to 
the  Regency  of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  describe  the  state  of  France 
under  that  Prince. 


Index 


Acquaviva,   Cardinal,  iii.   106 

Agioteurs,   ii.  350 

Alberoni,  Card.,  ii.  71,  182;  iii.  100, 

333,  386,  391;  iv.  78,  96,  180-89,  265 
Alcazar,   burning  of,   ii.   347 
Aieth,  Bishop  of,  iii.  286 
Altamire,  Comtesse  d',  iii.   117 
America,  establishments  in,  iv.  173 
Anne,  Queen,  i.  317;  ii.  155;  iii.  66 
Apartment,    i.    18 
Argenson,    M.    d',    iii.   48,    343'.    iv. 

13,    144,   145 

Argenton,  Mme.  d',  ii.  287,  292 
Arouet,  fils   (see  Voltaire) 
Asturias,  Prince  of  the,  iv.  282,  296 
Asturias,     Princess     of     the     (see 

Montpensier,   Mdlle.   de) 
Aubigne,  Comte  d',  i.  139 


B 


Baden,   Prince  Louis  of,  5.  87;  ii. 

55 

Bankruptcy  and  "  finance,"  iv.  159 
Barbezieux,   M.   de,   i.  264 
Bart,  Jean,  i.  133 
Bastards    (apotheosis    of),    ii.    321; 

(adjudication)    iv.   58-80 
Battue,  Spanish,  iv.  274 
Beauvais,   Mme.    de,   i.   46 
Beauvilliers,  Due  de,  i.  49;  ii.  182, 

251;    iii.    51 
Beauvilliers,   Duchesse  de,   iv.  299 

VOL.  II. — 25 


Bellegarde,  Due  de,  i.  34 
Bernard,    Samuel,    i.    133,    161,    188, 

216 

Berry,   Due  de,   ii.  200;   iii.   72,   129 
Berry,   Duchesse  de,  ii.  375;  iii.  2, 

132,  316;  iv.   120-38 
Berwick,    Duke  of,   i.    1:2,   353;    ii. 

195,   321 ;    iv.    190 
Black    Daughter    of    Louis    XIV., 

i.    147 

Blenheim,   battle  of,   ii.  8 
Blois,   Mdlle.   de,   i.    14 
Boileau,    Canon,   i.    178 
Borgia,   Cardinal,  iv.   283 
Boufilers,  Marechal  de,  i.  163,   170; 

ii.   191,  204,  222,  261,  278,  282,  351 
Bouillon,    Cardinal    de,    i.    212;    ii. 

113,  3i- 
Bourgog-ne,  Due  de,  i.  21,  142,  163; 

ii.    7,    33,    180,    181,    194,    197,    349, 

383;  iii.   5,  31,  37 
Bourgogne,    Duchesse    de,    i.    121, 

142,  168;  ii.  7,  38,  95,   159,  194,  231, 

3",  331.   37°;    iii-   5,   26 
Brandenbourg,    Elector   of,    ii.    132 
Bretagne,   Due   de,   ii.    15;   iii.  40 
Breteuil,   M.,   i.    174;   iv.  336 
Brissac,    M.   dc,   ii.    156;   iv.   207 
Burnet,   Doctor,   i.   228 


Cambrais.   Abp.   of   (see  Dubois) 

Carlos,    Don,    iv.    255 

Catinat,    Marcchal,    i.    320;    iii.    59 


3-5 


386 


Index 


Caumartin,  Abbe,  i.  68  Daniel,   Father,   iii.  79 

Cavoye,  M.,  i.   in;  iii.  353  Darmstadt,   Prince  of,  i.  137 

Cellamare   conspiracy,   iv.   89-98  Dauphin,  the,  ii.   189,  364 

Chaise,   Pere  la,   i.  93,    173,  215;   ii.  D'Avaux,   M.,  ii.  246 

237  Denmark,    King  of,    i.    191 

Chamillart,  M.,  i.  194,  262,  264,  319;  Denmark,   Queen   of,   i.    130 

ii.   4,   23,  95,   184,   196,   270,   27.;  Deportation     of    "  Colonists,"     iv. 

Charles   Edward,  Prince   (the  Pre-  158 

tender),    iii.    308-12  Desmarets,  M.,  ii.  162,  344 

Charles      Edward,       Prince      (the  Dillun,  M.,  iv.  384 

young  Pretender),  iv.  208  Domestic  life  of  sovereigns,  iv.  266 

Charlus,   Mme.  de,   iv.    in  Domiciliary  visitation,  iv.   154 

Charnace,  M.,  i.  159  Douglas,  Colonel,  iii.  309 

Charost,  Due  de,  iv.  310,  321,  326  Dubois,    Cardinal,    i.    15;    iii.    177; 

Chartres,  Due  de,  i.  14,  283  iv.  22,  30,  91-91,  143,  144,  183,  188, 

Chartres,  Vidame   de,  iv.   282,  287  191-93,    207,    209,    217,    219,    225-38, 

Chateauneuf,   M.    de,  i.   218  276,  278,  300-09,  317,  327-48 

Chatre,  Abbe  de  la,  i.   152  Duras,  M.,  ii.  45 
Chaulncs,  M.  de,  i.  81 

Chavigny,   M.  de,  i.   35  j. 
Chevreuse,  M.  de,  i.  103;  iii.  75 

Chirac,   physician,   iv.  332,  386  England,  Queen  of,  i.  24,  142  (see 

Choin,   Mdlle.,  ii.  272  further,     on     England:     William 

Choiseul,  Marechal  de,  i.  131  III.,  Hanover,  Tames  II.,  James 

Clement  X.,  Pope,  i.  222  III.,  Celamare,  Jacobite,  Charles 

Clermont,  M.  de,  i.  66  Edward,  Hanover,  George,  Stair, 

Coctlogon,  Mdlle.  de,  i.  in  Stanhope) 

Coetquen,  Comte  de,  i.   12  Escurial,  description  of,  iv.  252-56 

Colbert,  M.,  iv.  365  Estrees,    Cardinal  cP,   iii.   165 

Colonies,  desire  for,  iv.  157  Eugene,  Prince,  i.  251;  ii.  90,  193; 

Conde,   Prince  de,  i.  6;  ii.  254  iii.  65 
Conflans.   Bailli  de,   iv.  4 

TJ* 

Conillac,  M.,  i.   170 

Conti,    Prince    de,    i.    133,    169;    ii.  Fagon,  physician,  ii.  366;  iii.  212; 

225;  iv.   146,   147  iy    22 

Conti,  Princc?se  de,  i.  C6,  135;  ii.  367  Farpues,   M.,   i.   59 

Couislin,   Chev.   de,  i.   178  Farrier  of  Salon,  i.   187 

Courson,  iii.  376,  384;  iv.  319  Fenelon,  Abbe  de,  i.  95 

Courtenay,   M.   de,   i.   47;   iv.   150  Fcuilladc,   Due  de  la,  i.   116;  ii.  83 

Courtevaux,   M.   de,   ii.   64  ..  Finance,"  wonders  of,   iv.    139-59 

Cremona,   battle  of,   i.  258  Finances  (public),  disorder  of,  iv. 

Crosat,   iii.   305  I?3>    ,-5.80 

Fontaineau,    iv.   23 

D  Fouquet,  M.,  iv.  362 

France,     permanent     injury     from 

IVAguesseau,   M.,  ii.  348  Mississippi  manipulation,  iv.  155; 

Dangcau,  M.,  i.   119  plunged  in  disorder,  iv.  328,  341 


Index 


387 


Frejus,   M.,   iv.   312,  318-20,  321-26,  J 

347,   387,    390 

Jacobite   plot,   ii.    147 

Q  James   II.,   i.    ii,   24,   80,    112,    142, 

Ijl,    220,    303;     iv.    367 

Gaillard,  Father,  i.   107  James  m>i  ;;.  M9>  20i;  {il  I24>  34, 

Gamaches,   M.,  ii.   201  Jeronimites,  Monks,   iv.  252 

George  I.  of  England,  iv.  205  Jesuits>   hatred   of>   i5>   3,2.   admis. 

Gervaise,    Father,    i.    172  sion   of   ]aitv>    Hi_    268;    mutually 

Gesvres,   Marquis  de,  i.   174  ungrateful,   iv.    115 

Gibraltar,  ii.   19  Joyeuse,  M.  de,  i.  S3 
Gloucester,  Duke  of,  i.  223 
Godet,  Bishop,  i.  100 
Golden     Fleece,     Knighthood    of, 

installation,  iv.  287-94  Konigsmarck,  Count,  i.  80;  iv.  205 
Gonsalvo  de  Cordova,  iv.  291 

Government,  abuse  of,  re  money,  -, 

iv.   154,  155 

Grand  Prieur,  the,  ii.  55  La  Grange,  iv.  112 

Great  Western  Company,  iv.  156  Lamoignon,  M.,  ii.  57;  iv.  68,  319 

Griffin,  Lord,  ii.   153  Langlee,  i.   208 

Grimaldo,    Marquis,    iv.    238,    261,  Langres,    Bishop   of,   i.    108 

273,   278,   280,   298  Languet,    Cure,    iv.    112,    377 

Guerchois,   M.   la,  ii.   53  Laura,    Donna   Piscatori,   iv.    184 

Guyon,  Mme.,  i.  97  Lauson,  Due  de,  i.  84,  163;  ii.  52; 

iv.   349-59,   360-69,   370 

II  Lavienne,   M.,  i.  92 

Law,  John,  iii.  325,  352;  iv.  13,   i?, 
Hanover,  Elector  of,  i.  44,  80 

TT                 TT              t                  -a  139-50,  151-58,  160,  165,  170-74,  175, 
Hanover,    House   of,   strong   influ- 
ence   over    Regent    Orleans,    iv.  T  '    ' 

Le   Brun,   in.   212 

Lefevre,   iii.   3^4,  385 

Harcourt,   Prince  d  ,  i.   332;  11.  251  *      r~      j 

_  .                 .,     .  .Ke   dendre,   iv.   207 

Harcourt,    Prmocsse  d  ,  i.   218,  333  .  ,TT                 , 

TT     ,.,,.,..  L  Hospital,    Mme.,    in.   312 

Harlav,  Archbishop,   i.   106  ,      .        , 

-,",.,,.  Lesdiguiercs,   Duchesse  de,  i.  100; 

Harlay,   M.  d,   i.   56,   79,   127,   193;  ..     ,  ,  ••• 

ni.   64  T  ...        .            ,    ..      _ 

TT  ,       .          ,       .  Lille,  siege  of,  n.   181 

Helvetius,  physician,  in.  94;  iv.  212  .  . 

TT      ..              '        ..  Liria,  Due  de,  iv.  2.57-94 

Heudicourt,  M.,  u.  325  T                               . 

IT           r-             j       •  Lorges,  Due  de,  i.  84,  330 

Horn,  Comte  de,  iv.  200  _          .        _        ,      . 

TT        ,      ,,       ..  Lorraine,  Due  de.  i.  146 

Hough,  Mr.,  n.    146  T       .     VTTT 

TT      °             ....  I.ouis  XIII..   i.  33,  36,  213 

Hyghens,   physician,  iv.  259,  261  T       .     ^T,r      .      ' 

Louis   XIV.,   i.   8,   31,   81,    92,    107, 

_  in,    115,    117,    123,    140,    163,    167, 
185,   201,   204,   239,   278,   299;   ii.    4, 

India  Company,  iv.  1^3  64,  65,   95,    129,   143.    145.    159,    184, 

Indies,   Company  of,  iv.   159  196,  319.  367,  373;  iii.  7,  54,  67,  90, 

Interest   on   public   debt   reduced,  144,  170,  197-215,  216-70,  271-86;  iv. 

iv.    157  353,  359,  360 


388 


Index 


Louis    XV.,    ii.    311;    iii.    303;    iv. 

147,   148,    190,  210-13,  223,  308.  3'  it 

316,   318,  326,  327,  346 
Louville,   M.,   iv.   253 
Louvois,    M.    de,    ii.    71,    248;    iii. 

253:  iv.  352,  360 
Loyola,  description  of,  iv.  235 
Lude,    Duchesse    de,    i.    117,    142; 

»•   3 
Luxembourg,  Due  de,  i.  54 


M 

Mailly,  Comtesse  de,  i.  23;  ii.   133 
Mailly,   Mdlle.   de,   i.   219 
Maine,    M.    du,    i.    26,   90;    ii.    184; 
iii.    141,    155,    296;    iv.    14,    21,    27, 
32,  39,  55,  58,  72,  76,  88,  99-no 
Maine,  Mine,  du,  iv.  14,  99-110,  366 
Maintenon,    Mme.    de,    i.    14,    101, 
118,    130,    139,    147,    163,    170,    239, 
285,   306,    335,   3)6;    ii.    4,   62,    113, 
167,    171,    184,    206,    228,    233,    269, 
2/3,  277,  291  ;  iii.  96,  200,  208,  212, 
214,  239-59,  260-80;  iv.  117 
Maisons,    M.,    iii.    135,    157 
Malaga,  battle  of,   ii.    19 
Malplaquet,  battle  of,  ii.  280 
Marck,   Comte  de  la,  i.  211 
Marcchal,    physician,    ii.    347;    iv. 

33-' 

Marege,   i.   134 
Marlborough,   Duke  of,   i.  317;  ii. 

8,    134,   320,   328 
Marly,    building   of,    iii.    234 
Maulevrier,  M.  de,  ii.  40;  iv.  249 
Meaux,  M!.  de,  i.  103 
Meilleray,  Mme.  de,  ii.  312 
Metal    money    against    paper,    iv. 

'33 

Miramion,  Mme.   de,  i.   113 
Mississippi   Company,   iv.    14,   139- 

50,   151-62,  163 

Monaco,   M.  de,  i.  127,  202,  216 
Money,  new  ease  of,  iv.   139-50 
Montbron,  M.  de,  i.  25 
Montchevreuil,  Mme.  de,  i.  26 


Montespan,  Mme.  de,   ii.    124;  iii. 

237;  iv.  353,  360,  361,  365 
Montfort,   Due  de,   i.   17 
Montpensier,  Mme.  de,  i.  29 
Montpensier,  Mdlle.  de  (Asturias) 

iv.  249,  282,  296 

N 
Namur,  siege  of,  i.  5;  capitulation, 

i-  93 

Nangis,  Marechal,  ii.  32 
Nanon,  i.  118 

Nemours,  Duchesse  de,   ii.   130 
Ninon  (d'Enclos),  ii.  57 
Noailles,    Due   de,    i.   54;    iii.    378; 

iv.  391 

Nogent,  Mme.  de,  iv.  364-66 
Notre,   M.  le,  i.  221 
Noyon,  M.  de,  i.  63 

O 

O,  Mme.  d',  i.  120;  ii.  300 

Orange,  Prince  of  (see  William 
III.) 

Orange,  Princess  of,  i.  80 

Orleans,  Due  d',  i.  115,  271,  282; 
ii.  84,  171,  264,  285-306,  372;  iii. 
43,  154,  171-86,  (Regent)  192,  292, 
325,  346;  iv.  1-20,  23,  36-66,  79,  99- 
113,  126,  140,  146,  152,  156,  160, 
164,  167-68,  176,  185,  190-204,  209, 
212,  278,  304-12,  313,  318,  327-32, 
339,  346,  384,  385-93 


Panache,   Mme.,  i.  130 

Papal   infallibility,  iv.    188,  255 

Paper  currency,   attempt  to  force, 

iv.  153,   154,  161,  164 
Paper  scarce,  iv.   153 
Parliament    of    Paris,    iv.    7-32,    64, 

157,  159,   164,  167-69 
Parma,   Prince  of,  i.  151 
Pascal,   ii.   243 
Pensions,    prodigality    of,    iv.    150 

57,   169 


389 


Peter  the  Great,  i.  148;  iii.  57,  360-  Rochefoucauld,   Due  de  la,   i.  39, 

75  115;  iii-  89 

Petit,   M.,  i.   329  Rome,   infallibility  of,  iv.  188,  255 

Peyronie,    physician,    iv.   332  Rose,   M.,   i.    171,    266 

Philip  II.,  iv.  252,  254,   255  Royal  tithe,   ii.  343 

Philip    V.,   i.   246,   357;    ii.   263;   iii.  Roye,  Comte  de,  i.   130 

101;  iv.   250,  260-71,  272-78  Ruvigny,    M.,   i.    127 

Philippiques,   iv.    112  Ryswick,  Peace  of,  i.   132 
Pignerol,   prison,  iv.  361 

Poitiers,    Bishop   of,   i.    151  g 
Poland,    i.    134 

Pontchartrain,   M.  de,  ii.  47  fabran,   Mme'   de>  1V'  4 

Portland,  Duke  of,   i.   150  '   Algnan'    M'   de'  iv'  96 

u     .                      Aiu-     •  St.   Geran,   Mine,   de,   i.    u6 
rortocarrero,  Abbe,   iv.   91 

T,     .    T,        ,j       /-.,                ••  bt.   lierem.  Mme.  de,  i.  too 

Port  Royal  des  Champs,  n.  243  J 

TJ      r       nr     i       •        o  °t.    Laurent,    M..   i.    15 

Praslm,  M.  de,  i.  258  '      ..' 

.    .  St.  Ruth,  M.,  11.  313 

Prices,  rise  of,  iv.   157  \Li-j-         0 

•r,       ,     ,      .     .                  ,   r~  St.  Simon,  Abbe  de,  iv.  258 

Psychological    state   of   France   re  _       _. 

St.    Simon,    Due    de,    born,    i.    i; 
stock  companies,  iv.   151 

r,   ,,-           ,.             .         ,  commands   company   of   cavalry, 
Public  audience,   iv.  263 

,-,           ...             itr       •                     i  '•  28;  loses  father,  i.  31;  account 

Puyguilhem,    M.,    iv.    352-57    (see  ,  ,    , 

Lauson,   Due  de)  of  fathcr'  ''  39:  wlshes  to  marry' 

Puysegur,  M.,  ii.  229  \\  «:    visits    La    frappe     i.    5-'! 

Due  de  Luxembourg  s  clawn  of 
precedence,     i.     54;     returns     to 

P.  Paris,   i.    122;   again   joins   army, 
i.     131;    has    son,    i.    159;    Louis 

Queue,  M.  la,  ii.  6  XIV-  displeased  with,  ii.  4;  ap- 

pointed   Ambassador    to    Rome, 
ii.     106;    falls    through,     ii.     108; 

p  friendly  with    new    Dauphin,   iii. 
12;     consulted     by     Regent     Or- 

Rabutin,   Bussy,   i.    113  leans,     iii.     195;     relations     with 

Racine,  M.,   i.  58,   180  Regent,     iv.     i  ;    repugnance    to 

Ramillies,  battle  of,   ii.  78  Mississippi  Company,  iv.   139-50; 

Regency,  iii.   192,  292,  304;  iv.   1-20,  prodigality  of  Regent,  iv.   151-55; 

36-60;     prodigality     of,     iv.     156;  appointed  Ambassador  to  Spain, 

(Council)  iv.   164,   176.     (See  fur-  iv.    216-24;    goes    to    Madrid,    iv. 

ther:   Orleans,    Due  d',   chapters  225-48;    sees   Escurial,    iv.   252-56; 

iii.,    iv.)  has    small-pox,    iv.    257;    attends 

Retz,  Cardinal   de,  ii.  313  battue,  iv.   274;  duplicity  of  Du- 

Revel,    M.   de,   i.   259  bois,     iv.     279-81;     marriage     of 

Rheims,   Abp.   of,    i.    220  Prince  of  the  Asturias,  iv.  283;  is 

Richelieu,   Cardinal   de,   i.    33  made  grandee  of  Spain,  iv.  285; 

Rion,   iv.    123  Toison     d'Or     (Golden     Fleece) 

Rochefort,  Marechale  de,  i.  22,  118  for  son,   iv.   285;   Spanish   people 

Rohan,   Cardinal   dc,    iv.    326  pleased    with,     iv.     205;     end     of 

Rohan,   Due  de,   ii.   170  mission,   iv.   296;  in  Paris  again, 


3QO  Index 


iv.    299;    Villeroy    disgraced,    iv.  Turin,  battle  of,  ii.  90 

300-16;    good    fortune    of    Frcjus,  Turks,  iii.  37 

iv.     318-26;    retires    from     public 

life,    iv.    327;      Dubois    declared  \J 

prime  minister,   iv.  3.V;  wearied  i;nigenitus,    Bull,   iii.   80 

with  Regent's  weakness,  iv.  328;  Unknown  prisoner,  iii.  305 

death    of    Dubois,    iv.    332;     Or-  Ursins>   Princesse  des,  i.  341,   355; 

leans    prime    minister,     iv.    346;  ,;.    5I>    j;i>    263.    iH.    95>    li?>    ^ 

death     of     Orleans,     iv.     385-93;  :25;  iv.  lKgi  ^ 

finally  retires,   iv.   393  Utrecht,  Treaty  of,  iii.  75 
Santeuil,   Canon,  i.   136 
Savary,   M.,  i.   183 
Savoie,  Due  de,  i.  254 

Saxony,   Elector  of,  i.   134  Valcntinois,   Mme.   de,  i.   128 

Scose,  Due  de,  iv.  292  Valincourt,  M.,  iv.  34 

Seraphim,    Father,   i.   114  Varcnne,    M.  la,   i.    144 

Shrewsbury,    Duke   of,   iii.   69  Vassor,   M.,  i.  224 

Sillery,   Chev.   de,   i.    134  Vatteville,  Abbe  de,  i.  307 

Single  Tax,  ii.  345  Vauban,    Marechal,   i.   6;   ii.   95 

Soubise,  Mme.   de,  i.    209  Vaudemont,  1'rince  de,  i.   147 

Spain,   affairs  of,    iv.    181 ;    admira-  Vaugoyon,  M.  la,  i.  46,  48 

tion  for,  iv.  298  Vendome,    Due    dc,    i.    72,    182;    ii. 

Spanish  succession,  i.   231;   ii.   173,  55,  68,   174,  202,  224,  331,  338,  342; 

264,  330,   336;   iii.   73  iii.    60-61 

Stair,   Lord,   iii.   315  Verrier,   M.,   iv.  344 

Stanhope,    Lord,   ii.    336,    342  Vidames,  i.  162 

Starembcrg,    Marshal,   ii.   332,    338  Villars,   M.  de,   i.   21,   153 

Stockjobbing,  inception  of,  iv.  161,  Villars,   Marechal,    ii.    52,    282,   319, 

169,   170  325,    327;    iii.    346;    iv.    60,    170 

Villavicioza,   battle  of,   ii.   340 

T  Villena,  Marquis  de,  iii.  388 

Tellier,    Fere,   ii.   240,   347,   367;   iii.  Villeroy,    Marechal    de,    i.   43.    253: 

80,  208,   264,   269;   iv.    115  "•  8°:  HL  2I°.  304;   iv.   21,  60,  75, 

Tcncin,  Abbe,  iv.   143  '47-SQ,   212-15,   300-16,   320-26,    347 

Tcssc,    Count,    i.    166,    251;    ii.    38,  Voisin,  M.,   ii.  276 

139;   iv.   144  Voltaire,   iii.   332 

Tobacco,  use  of,   by   ladies,   i.   no  Vrilliere,   M.  la,  i.   219;   ii.   311;  iv. 

Torcy,  M.,  iv.  231,  377  22.    l6°.   39<> 
Toulouse,   Comte   de,    i.    6;    ii.    19, 

48;  iv.  34,  40,   53,   72,   105,  366  W 

Trappe,    M.    de   la,    i.    52,    123,    155,  William  III.,  i.  9,  41,  90,   135,   150, 

172,   229  223,  232,  304,  315 

Turenne,  Marechal  de,  i.  330  Winter  severe,   ii.  209 


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